Country Roads
by Tori of Lorien
Summary: After a car accident leaves them stranded in the middle of nowhere, the members of the Shield find themselves wrapped up in a deadly game where no one can be trusted but each other. But there is one catch– the game is intended for only one winner, and to lose is to die. No slash! Rating to be safe!
1. Chapter 1

**Country Roads**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing associated with the WWE. Just any OCs! Lyrics to "Country Roads" belong to John Denver.

**Summary**: After a car accident leaves them stranded in the middle of nowhere, the members of the Shield find themselves wrapped up in a deadly game where no one can be trusted but each other. But there is one catch– the game is intended for only one winner, and to lose is to die.

**Characters**: Dean Ambrose, Tyler Black/Seth Rollins, and Roman Reigns, features OCs

**Pairings**: None

**Rating**: M (warnings below)

**Genre**: Horror/Suspense

**Author's Note**: Well, I've finally broken down and decided to write my first Shield story, lol. I just love these guys too much not to do so. This is rated M for **language**, **violence**, and hints of **mature themes**. However, it will be nothing too explicit, so the rating is just to be safe. This is also not a songfic, just a couple lines of lyrics are used. If you come along for this wild ride, feel free to read and review, just no flames please! Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

_Chapter 1_

_"Almost heaven, West Virginia..._

_... Life is old there, older than the trees_

_Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze..."_

The first thing he was fully aware of was that his head was pounding.

However, this wasn't a necessarily unusual sensation for Dean Ambrose. He couldn't recall just how many days he had woken up with the mother of all hangovers where he had a difficult time just getting out of bed due to the nauseating pain.

But this wasn't the mother of all hangovers. It wasn't even the son of the mother of all hangovers, which really wasn't too bad if he thought about it. No, this was something else entirely.

Groaning quietly, Dean tried to move since his back was uncomfortable against the hard surface behind him, but he surprisingly found that he couldn't. He quickly opened his eyes, immediately knowing that was a bad idea because even though wherever he was was very dim, his head felt like it was going to spin right off his shoulders. That sensation was a bit more familiar, having had a few concussions in his twenty-seven years of life.

But the part that unnerved him was he wasn't even sure of where he could have possibly gotten one. The last thing he remembered was leaving the hotel the company he worked for had been staying at with Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns, two of his best friends, as they made their way toward the next city for a televised event...

_Squealing tires... crash..._

Shaking his head slightly as he took a deep breath, Dean attempted to remain calm. He cast his gaze toward the hard floor, noticing that his hands were tied tightly behind his back. A sharp feeling of fear pierced his stomach. Wherever he was, it was against his will. And the worst part was, he was alone.

He closed his eyes for a moment, willing his heart rate to slow. He needed to think, and he couldn't do that with the loud pounding that was echoing in his ears. He just had to try to remain calm and figure out what to do. Panicking wouldn't help. And it wasn't as though he wasn't used to the feeling of being alone– he had been alone for as long as he could remember.

But this... this was different...

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open again. A quiet sound was heard over his own pounding heart– a whisper of breath, short and shallow. But at that moment, it was the best sound he had ever heard. Someone was in the room with him.

Squinting slightly, Dean finally noticed the slouched figure sitting across from him. It was so dimly lit that he hadn't even noticed the second person in the small space with him before. He was sitting so close that their legs, though folded neatly under each of them, were nearly touching. The limited lighting made it difficult to see who it was, and the only thing he could see clearly was the long dark hair that was hanging over their face, concealing their features even more.

And then, he saw the streak of blond.

"Se... Seth..." Dean managed to croak out, surprised by how weak his voice sounded. "Seth..."

He attempted to push away from the wall behind him, wincing until he leaned back again. There wasn't much he could do with his hands tied anyway, so instead, he slowly uncurled one leg and stretched it out in front of him, an action which took more effort than it usually should have since his muscles were so stiff to the point where it was painful.

After taking a deep breath, and once the pain in his legs died down, Dean lightly kicked the other man's leg, attempting to rouse him. "Seth, come on, man..." he muttered, kicking him a second time when he got no response. "Don't leave me alone here... you asshole..."

After a couple more soft kicks, Seth finally began to stir. A quiet groan of pain passed through his lips as he slowly started to raise his head, looking around him in confusion. His gaze was disoriented as he attempted to figure out where he was, but recognition entered his dark eyes when he saw the other man.

"De... Dean...?"

"You got it." Dean sighed as he looked at Seth a bit more carefully. Now that his eyes were starting to adjust, he noticed that a dark bruise was forming over his left eye, standing out against his paler face. "Is your head pounding as much as mine is?"

Seth's eyes narrowed for a moment before he shook his head slightly. "No... not my head," he muttered. He paused, raising his gaze to Dean's face. "Definitely looks like yours is, though..."

Dean arched an eyebrow before immediately lowering it. What had happened to make even that small action painful? "What do you mean?" he finally asked quietly, the throbbing in his temples once more returning. "Do I have bruises or blood or some shit like that on my face?"

"Yeah, it's..." Seth began to try to raise his arm to show his friend where the blood that stained nearly his entire right cheek was, but just like Dean, he quickly discovered that his hands were also tied tightly behind his back, and fear grasped his heart. He tried to straighten up a bit, both to try to get a better sense of his bearings and to find a more comfortable sitting position, but a quiet cry of pain escaped from him before he slouched over again.

"Seth!" Dean leaned forward slightly with wide eyes, watching as his dark hair fell into his face once more as he dropped his head. "Seth, what's wrong?"

For a long moment, there was no response from the other man other than the loud sound of his harsher breathing. Then, Seth slowly lifted his head again, and Dean was alarmed to see that his face had lost nearly all of its color. "My... my side is killing me..." he murmured, his voice hardly louder than a whisper. "Maybe... broken rib... at least..."

"Fuck!" Dean closed his eyes for a brief moment, the dread that had been gnawing away at him for some time returning with a vengeance. "Listen, man, just sit still, okay? Don't move unless you absolutely have to..."

Seth nodded and leaned his head back against the hard wall behind him as he attempted to calm his breathing. He had to try to regain his composure in effort to think about where he and the other man possibly could have been, what had happened, and how they could escape. He watched as Dean fell back against the wall behind him in frustration before he closed his eyes to try to take some deep breaths. But every time he tried to fully inhale, the same sharp pain from his ribs returned, and he had to wonder just how many were actually broken.

Then, his eyes snapped open in horror as he lifted his head away from the wall to look at his friend better. "Dean!"

Dean raised his head slightly as well. "Yeah?" he wondered casually, though he admitted he was concerned to hear the anxiousness in the other man's tone.

And as soon as Seth asked his next question, he knew he had every reason to be anxious, for his own dread was once more rekindled.

"Where... where's Roman?"

Dean's gaze faltered as he lowered it. "I... I don't know," he told him, his tone low. "It's just you and me..."

Sorrow crossed Seth's face at what those words could possibly mean, and he let out a quiet sigh as he leaned back against the wall again. Dean closed his eyes, attempting to remain calm. He didn't know what concerned him more– Roman being nowhere to be seen, or where he and Seth could have possibly been and why. Both queries seemed grim, and the worst part was he didn't know what kind of answer he would get from either of them.

* * *

_"Country roads, take me home_

_To the place I belong..._

_... Take me home, country roads..."_

Poke. Poke. Poke.

"I think he's dead..."

Roman was irritated to feel that something small had been poking his side and chest before finally moving on to his face. He groaned quietly, weakly raising his hand in effort to brush whatever it was away. He really didn't want to be bothered.

"Wait! He's moving..."

Poke. Poke.

Suddenly, Roman's eyes snapped open as he pushed himself up on his tattooed arm, hearing a loud, high-pitched scream from right next to his ear. He briefly shut his eyes at the unexpected sound before what sounded like hurried footsteps reached his ears, and he opened them again in time to see two identical blonde girls who couldn't have been older than eight running as fast as they could away from him. They were both wearing light floral print dresses and matching sandals with denim backpacks over their shoulders, and they occasionally sent glances over their shoulders at him as they continued to run.

"Wait..." Roman attempted to call after them, but his voice had almost completely given out on him. He sighed quietly as he shielded his eyes against the bright morning sunlight, watching as the girls left the small country road and disappeared into a field of tall, swaying wheatgrass.

Now that he was alone, he slowly attempted to sit up, pausing with a quiet hiss when his head throbbed in protest. "Where the hell am I?" he wondered to no one in particular when the pain died down enough for him to get a better look at his surroundings as he finished straightening up. He was sitting on the hard asphalt of a street that appeared to not have been freshly paved for years, the yellow lines down the center hardly noticeable anymore. He was under an overpass of some sort with a bridge above his head, an array of colorful graffiti that he couldn't quite focus on enough to read nearly covering the entire underside of the stone arch.

But it was what was across from him that mostly caught his attention. For across the street at the base of the overpass was a black car that was completely dented on the driver's side, leaning against the graffiti-filled structure.

_Seth chuckled quietly as he playfully argued with him and Dean about what radio station to listen to..._

_Dean inhaled on his half of a cigarette, making sure that all the smoke drifted out toward the night sky before tossing it out the passenger side window..._

_He sat in the backseat behind his two friends with his phone held securely in his hands as he texted his fiancée to tell her how the show had gone and that he couldn't wait to see her..._

_Seth pulled off of the interstate so they could find a gas station to fill their tank and get some snacks for the road, briefly pausing at a stop sign before he began to drive under the overpass..._

_Glaring headlights... squealing tires... crash..._

Roman's dark eyes widened with horror as he stared at the wrecked car before him, clearly remembering the accident now. But what had happened after they had been forced off the narrow country road, he couldn't be certain...

"S-Seth? Dean?" Roman staggered to his feet, nearly stumbling as he hurried over to what had once been their rental car. Fearing the worst, he pulled open the crunched driver's door with some difficulty, and his brow furrowed in confusion when he saw that it was empty. He was standing in a pile of broken glass, a third of a license plate, and a puddle of gasoline, but his two friends were nowhere to be seen.

Then, something caught his eye from the backseat, and Roman once again had difficulty with the door next to him. Once he finally got it forced open, he reached inside and picked up his cell phone from the seat he had occupied the night before, lightly tracing a finger over the crack that nearly split the screen in two. It still lit up under his touch, however, and his gaze saddened when he saw the picture he had always kept as his background.

His beautiful fiancée was smiling back at him, and in her arms was their little daughter. Though she was only three, there was so much in her face that reminded him of her mother, though her waved black hair was similar to his own. Roman sighed quietly, slipping his phone safely into the back pocket of his jeans before his eyes widened when he caught sight of his reflection in the rearview mirror that was dangling precariously from the front windshield out of the corner of his eye. He leaned a little closer, his gaze passing over the deep gash in the middle of his forehead, his split bottom lip, and the bruises that were present on his right cheek.

What still unnerved him most, however, was that he had absolutely no idea where Seth and Dean could have been or if they were even all right.

Then, he heard another vehicle approaching before slowing to a stop, and Roman looked up in time to see a black sheriff's car park across the narrow road from him. A portly man with graying hair and a clean-shaven face wearing dark sunglasses and a cowboy hat stepped out from behind the wheel, exhaling smoke from his cigarette before dropping it on the ground and putting it out beneath his boot.

"Step away from the car!" he declared as he began to make his way toward him.

"You don't understand... this was my rental car," Roman said, gesturing back to the wreckage. "My friends and I... we were driving on the interstate and just pulled off to get some gas..."

The sheriff, however, didn't seem to hear a word he said as he approached, raising his sunglasses a bit and looking at the younger man with some suspicion. "You from 'round these parts, boy?" he asked.

"No," Roman answered, shaking his head. He paused and briefly closed his eyes, knowing that had been a bad idea when his temples pounded a little. "No, I'm not... My friends and I, we..."

"You what?" the sheriff pressed when Roman's sentence trailed off. "Speak, boy."

Roman sighed quietly. "We travel for our job," he explained. "And that's all we were doing. We just finished a show, and we were on our way to our next one when we pulled off the interstate to get some gas last night, as I said."

The sheriff looked at him for a long moment, his gaze passing over his bruised face and the tribal tattoo that covered his right arm before he lowered his sunglasses and stepped around him. He let out a low whistle as he surveyed the damage that had been done to the black rental car. "Wow, boy, you really wrecked this up good..."

"That... that wasn't our fault..." Roman tried to explain. "Someone hit us as we were going under the overpass and forced us off the road..."

After looking over all the damage that had been done for a couple more minutes by running his hand over the dents and the shards of glass that remained in the windows, the sheriff turned to look at the other man again. "You keep saying 'we' and 'us,' boy. And yet you're the only one here."

Sorrow crossed Roman's face. "I don't know where my two friends are," he muttered. "They... they were gone when I woke up..."

The sheriff continued to stare at him intently, and Roman had to admit that he felt uncomfortable since he couldn't see the other man's eyes. He wouldn't have been surprised if he believed he was drunk or on drugs or something equally ridiculous. "Do you have any identification, boy?" he finally wondered.

For a moment, Roman panicked. Since he had clearly been dragged out of the car after the accident and left on the other side of the narrow road, he had no idea what whoever had run into them could have possibly taken from the car or off of his person.

But strangely enough, his wallet was still in the right front pocket of his jeans where he always kept it. So, whoever had rammed them off the road hadn't robbed them too. "Yeah, sure... Here."

The sheriff took his plain black wallet and opened it, taking off his sunglasses and hanging them on the collar of his beige uniform before he pulled out his driver's license, his light eyes moving from the picture there to its owner's face a couple times before he seemed to be satisfied. Roman looked back inside the front seat of the wrecked vehicle as the older man started to go through his credit cards, store rewards cards, and even his library card, hoping he could find what he was looking for. His heart lifted a bit as he quickly leaned forward and picked up the keys to the rental car from the floor where they had fallen and landed by the brake pedal.

"This your wife and kid, boy?"

Roman felt his stomach tighten a bit at the sudden question, and he slowly straightened up and turned around. The sheriff was holding up a pocket-sized picture of him, his fiancée, and their daughter, all with broad smiles on their faces. It had just been taken a couple of weeks ago when he had a couple days off from the road, and they had taken the young girl to the park to play.

"Fiancée, actually," he corrected quietly. "But yes, that's my family."

The sheriff nodded slightly, seemingly disinterested, before he slid the photograph back into the wallet. Then, he pulled a second picture out and held it up. "And who are these two?" he asked.

Roman's gaze faltered slightly when he saw himself, Seth, and Dean looking back at him, two of them with smiles though the latter had a smirk and raised eyebrow instead. It had been taken from their days back on the developmental circuit, and the three of them had been out at a bar celebrating Seth's birthday. "Those... those are my friends who are missing," he answered quietly.

A moment passed before the sheriff nodded slightly as he looked back at the picture he held. "Well, boy, I'll have to take this," he said.

However, Roman adamantly shook his head despite the throbbing pain. "No, you can't just take that," he replied. Not only was that an important picture to him, but he was a bit educated on his rights.

The sheriff sighed quietly. "Do you want to find your friends or not, boy?" When Roman didn't say anything, he shut the wallet but kept the picture of the three men as he offered it back to him. "That's what I thought. You'll get it back when I'm finished, boy."

Roman looked at him for a long moment before he slowly reached out and took his wallet back, slipping it in his pocket. The sheriff put the photograph in his own pocket, reaching into his back one and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "Now, you'll have to come down to the station with me and fill out a report," he told him, taking out a cigarette and looking at the younger man before he offered him the pack. "You smoke, boy?"

"No." Roman shook his head.

The sheriff just shrugged and slipped the cigarettes back in their proper place, pulling a lighter out of his front pocket and lighting the one he had taken out. "So, you can just get in the car..."

"Wait."

"For what, boy?" The sheriff watched as Roman walked to the back of the wrecked rental car and unlocked the trunk before pushing it open. He pulled out what appeared to be three luggage bags, and he quickly set his hand on the gun on his belt. "What's all that?"

Roman paused when he saw the older man was ready to pull out his weapon, shaking his head in a slightly placating manner. "This is just the stuff we bring with us from city to city," he tried to explain. "Personal luggage."

"Set 'em down," the sheriff ordered. When he saw that the younger man was about to protest, he started to pull his gun off his belt.

"Okay, okay." Roman sighed as he set the three bags down on the road and stepped back from them. He watched as the sheriff approached, looking up at him with a slightly suspicious eye once more before he began to thoroughly make his way through each of the bags, sifting through extra changes of clothes, necessary toiletries, their ring gear, books for minimal free time reading, a couple magazines, extra packs of cigarettes, pocket calendars and planners, grocery store coupons, and a slew of Sharpie permanent markers.

Once he was finished and determined that the contents of the bags were not a threat and there were no concealed weapons, the sheriff raised his curious gaze to Roman. "What is it that you and friends do for a living, boy?" he wondered.

"We're professional wrestlers," Roman explained.

The sheriff looked back at him with a raised eyebrow for a long moment before he shrugged, proceeding to close all three bags. "All right, boy, just toss these in the back, and we'll be on our way."

Roman sighed quietly with relief, bending over and picking up his, Seth, and Dean's luggage bags before he followed the older man toward his squad car. He opened the back door and set them inside before he walked around to the other side and sat in the passenger seat as the sheriff slid behind the wheel. The car was started before he began to pull away from the scene of the accident, and Roman quickly looked over at him when a question that had been on his mind since he had regained consciousness once more occurred to him.

"Where exactly are we?"

The sheriff briefly paused at a stop sign before he pulled away from the overpass, chuckling quietly. "Wow, boy, you must have been involved in quite the accident if you don't know that," he said. "We're in the southern part of beautiful West Virginia."

So, they hadn't quite left the state yet as he remembered he, Seth, and Dean had believed the night before. Roman sighed quietly to himself as he leaned back against the seat behind him and closed his eyes, hoping against hope that he could figure out what the hell was going on as they made their way down the narrow country road.

**Author's Note**: Well, that's it for that one! Hope you guys enjoyed it, and the next chapter will be up soon! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing associated with the WWE. Just any OCs! Lyrics to "Country Roads" belong to John Denver.

**Summary**: After a car accident leaves them stranded in the middle of nowhere, the members of the Shield find themselves wrapped up in a deadly game where no one can be trusted but each other. But there is one catch– the game is intended for only one winner, and to lose is to die.

**Author's Note**: Hey! I hope everyone had a great holiday if you celebrated it! And thank you for all the reviews, follows, and favorites! They really mean a lot! I'm glad that you're enjoying my first attempt at these three as the main characters :) So, thank you again, and I hope you enjoy the next installment!

_Chapter 2_

_"Dark and dusty, painted on the sky_

_Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye..."_

"How are you doing, Seth?" Dean asked with concern. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed since he had woken up in the small space they were trapped in, but after quite a lot of it, he couldn't help but notice that the other man had grown steadily quieter. With at least one possible broken rib, his worry wasn't so unfounded.

Seth took as deep of a breath that the pain in his left side would allow as he lifted his head slightly to look at Dean. "I'm okay..." he answered, his voice quiet. "Just... kinda tired..."

Dean worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "Well, we both had quite a bit of shut-eye already," he told him. "You don't need any more. So no sleeping, okay?"

"Whatever, Dean..." Seth chuckled a little, knowing that his friend was just concerned, which he couldn't blame him for. He was worried himself since the pain in his ribs had only gotten worse since he had been woken by Dean, and though escaping from that would have been ideal, he agreed with the other man that letting himself fall back to sleep probably wouldn't have been the greatest idea.

However, the quiet laughter caused another wave of intense agony to shoot through his side, and he winced as he waited for it to die back down. Dean watched as Seth hung his head and attempted to catch his breath, sighing quietly himself. He didn't know if being slumped over was the greatest position for his friend to be in if he really did have a least one rib that was broken, but with the limited amount of space that they were confined in, there really was no other choice.

Once the look of pain left Seth's face, Dean leaned forward a bit. "So... how many ribs do you think are actually broken?" he wondered. "Can you tell?"

Seth considered his response for a long moment before he shook his head. "At least one," he muttered. "And that's definitely broken... I'm just not sure if more are broken, too, or... or cracked, or something less severe..."

That was the answer Dean had been expecting from the other man, but it was one that he dreaded as well. He would have felt better if he had more of a gauge on what the extent of Seth's injury was. One broken rib was painful enough to deal with, and it was especially a concern since he didn't know where they were or why.

But he also felt the overhanging dread that they wouldn't be leaving this place and certainly would not be getting any medical attention, a sentiment that he didn't want to share with his friend even though he had the feeling Seth was just as aware of that fact as he was.

"How... how's your head?"

Dean slowly raised his gaze to Seth again, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. "All of the ribs on the left side of your body could be snapped for all you know, and you're concerned about a bump to the head I took?" he said with a small laugh of his own.

Seth attempted to return the look, but the effort was feeble. "Just want to know... how bad..." he replied. "Concussion?"

"I... I don't think so..." Dean took a moment to assess his own condition. A dull, pulsating pain was still lingering in his head, but the dizziness had long since diminished. The more he thought about it, however, sleep was something he probably shouldn't allow himself to do either, just to be on the safe side. He was determined to make sure he and Seth both stayed awake for however long they were kept in this place. At least for as long as he could.

"It doesn't feel quite the same as a concussion," he finished quietly. "I probably just... banged it a good one when... when we..."

"... Crashed?"

Dean met Seth's gaze, seeing that a similar impassive look was on his face. "You... you remember that too, huh?"

Seth nodded slightly. "I didn't at first... and I don't remember too much now, but..." He sighed. "What I remember is... we left the arena after the show was over. We had been driving on the highway for a couple hours... fighting over the radio. I threatened to turn it off, but... we finally settled on a station. You had like three cigarettes, and Roman was texting his fiancée... We decided to stop at a gas station to get gas and some snacks, so I pulled off the highway... We were driving under a bridge, and..." He hesitated for a moment. "There... there were sudden blinding lights... a car was speeding... hit us from the driver's side... And that's all I remember."

"More than I do," Dean muttered with frustration. "All I remember is the car hitting us before my head smashed the window... Though speaking of a cigarette, I could really use one right about now..."

The other man chuckled quietly again, once more causing his ribs to flare with pain. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, his jaw setting tightly as he waited for it to die down. Dean's gaze faltered as he watched him, wishing there was more that he could do for him, even though he knew there wasn't.

"There's just one thing that really bothers me about this whole thing," he muttered.

Seth cracked one eye open. "You mean... besides the fact that we're... being held hostage somewhere?" he wondered.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, besides the obvious, you asshole," he told him, causing his friend to smirk ever so slightly. But then, he sighed. "No... what I meant was... that car seemed to be waiting for us or some shit, man... It just came out of fucking nowhere..."

Sighing quietly, Seth had to admit that his friend was right. He vaguely remembered that he hadn't seen any other cars before he had begun to drive under the overpass. The headlights and the sound of squealing tires had been so sudden, literally as though they had come out of nowhere.

But he didn't understand why whoever had been driving it would have been waiting for them like the other man suggested. As far as he was aware, he, Dean, and Roman didn't know anyone in this area, much less have enemies who would go to such lengths as this.

Dean groaned quietly in agitation, once more turning his attention to the rope that tightly bound his hands as he attempted to pull at it with his fingers. He didn't know why he kept trying to free himself since the last few times he had tried had been futile. But he was very anxious, he reasoned, and at least this gave him something to focus on, even though it was a task he knew he wouldn't accomplish. Knowing he wouldn't get anywhere, however, he once again started to try to reach the objects he could feel were in the front pockets of his jeans. He was confused about why their captors wouldn't take their cell phones and wallets, even though he didn't have too much of value in his own, before they tied them up and dumped them somewhere. It didn't make any sense to him, but it was frustrating not being able to reach them with his hands behind his back.

Finally giving up once again, though he hated to do so, Dean leaned back against the wall behind him and noticed that Seth was watching him with a look of understanding. For some reason, it was nice to know that he wasn't the only one who felt helpless and trapped. "Damn... I just wish I knew what happened to Roman..." he said, again trying to find something to distract himself from his current predicament. Though he also wasn't sure if bringing up their missing friend was the best route, knowing that there were many possibilities of where he could have been, and not all of them were positive.

Seth nodded slightly in agreement. "I don't know, man," he replied quietly. "I mean, he was in the car when we crashed, too..." His dark gaze faltered. "Maybe... maybe he got out somehow, you know? Like after we were forced off the road, maybe he managed to escape... and he found a police station or something... I mean, that could be, right?"

Dean, however, didn't say anything. He simply looked down at the faded black and gray tennis shoes he was wearing that had a slight rip in the sole, the same ones that he had been considering replacing when they reached the next city since they would have had some free time between when they would have arrived at the hotel and when they would have been expected at the arena to prepare for the show.

"Or maybe he's..."

"Dead."

Seth's eyes widened slightly as he looked at the other man. That had been the last thing he was going to say, even though he had to admit that it was a possibility that had been haunting him as well. "Dean..."

"No. It's one of the more logical conclusions, Seth, and you know it." Dean slowly raised his gaze from his outstretched legs and met his friend's eyes. "Just think about it. Why would we be brought here and not Roman if he had survived? What is the point of only bringing two of us here?"

A long moment passed before Seth let out a quiet but resigned sigh as he lowered his head slightly. "You... you're right..."

Dean continued to look at him for a long moment before he nodded a couple times and lowered his gaze as well. "I know," he muttered. "Though I hate that I am..."

When the other man didn't say anything, Dean raised his light eyes to him again before he lightly kicked one of his legs that were still folded under him. "Hey, but we have to stay positive here," he added. "You're also right, man. Hell, Roman could be out there looking for us. You never know..."

Seth felt like laughing, but he thought better of it and instead forced a smile. "Dean... I'm gonna be honest with you," he muttered. "I never thought that you of all people would be the one telling me that I have to cheer up."

Dean narrowed his eyes slightly, though he also had to admit that the thought was quite humorous. "Shut up. Shit, man, I was trying to be serious..." He paused for a moment, lowering his gaze. "It's a lesson I learned very early on in life. It's the only way you survive in this world..."

A long moment passed where neither man said anything before Seth finally nodded a couple times. "I guess..." he agreed quietly. "We can hope that Roman's all right..."

"All we can do," Dean confirmed, glancing at the small space around them again. It was still the same four walls and low ceiling, no matter how many times he looked at it. "More than we can say about us, actually..."

Seth sighed quietly, knowing that the other man was right. He didn't know where he and his friend were, and he certainly didn't know if they would ever be able to leave. "So... where do you think Roman would be, then, since he's not with us?" he asked.

Dean let out a long, slow breath, meeting the other man's gaze as he shook his head. "That... I don't know."

* * *

_"The radio reminds me of my home far away_

_And driving down the road, I get a feeling that I should have been home yesterday..."_

Due to the small injuries that he had sustained in the accident, Roman was taken to the only walk-in clinic the small town the sheriff had brought him to had. He sat in one of the four uncomfortable, rickety chairs in the waiting room as he stared blankly ahead of him, hardly taking notice of the outdated daily nutrition chart that was starting to lose its grip on the wall. His mind was racing to the point where it was almost numb, even though he wasn't sure how that sensation was even possible. He just had so many questions about what had happened and where his friends were that it was overwhelming.

Then, he slowly looked up when the door of the clinic opened, watching as a woman with long blonde hair that was braided down her back walked in holding a child in her arms that couldn't have been older than a year old. The boy was crying loudly, his small hand grabbing at his mother's face as she approached the glass window the receptionist sat behind, and Roman sighed quietly as he looked away from them. He barely heard her say something about whooping cough as he cast his dark gaze down to the low wooden table in front of him, seeing that the pile of outdated magazines were older than he had seen in any waiting room. The most recent addition was a homemaker's guide from the Seventies.

Knowing that wouldn't keep him occupied while he waited or distract him from his turbulent thoughts, Roman turned his attention to the small, seemingly ancient radio that was sitting in the corner. It was playing some tune that he couldn't quite distinguish since it was so faint and there was a lot of static. He glanced around, and noticing that the mother with her child was too busy with the receptionist to really notice what he was doing, he rose to his feet and crossed the small room, his eyes narrowing slightly in concentration as he began to fiddle with the dials.

"Don't bother, dear."

Roman glanced over his shoulder, seeing that the gray-haired receptionist had glanced up from her appointment book to see what he was up to and that the young mother was watching him with curiosity in her exhausted gaze. "That hasn't worked properly in years," the older woman concluded, adjusting her wire-rimmed glasses to sit higher up on the bridge of her nose as she turned back to what she had been writing.

However, Roman wasn't dissuaded as he turned back to the radio, continuing to try to find the right setting. He had always had some interest in tinkering with older things, and at the very least, it would keep him distracted for a little while. He turned the dials for a few more minutes before carefully starting to straighten the brittle antenna. Once it was standing a bit taller, he turned the dials a couple more times, and a small smile appeared on his face when the static cleared and the gentle guitar melody filled the waiting room.

"Well, I'll be..." the receptionist muttered, a small smile appearing on her own face as she nodded slightly. "It'll be nice to have some music in here again, that's for sure..."

"Yeah," Roman agreed quietly as he turned away from the radio, pausing with surprise when he saw that the woman with the young child suffering from whooping cough was now sitting one chair away from where he had initially been waiting. She was bouncing her son lightly on her knee in time to the music that was now clearly heard, and not knowing what else to do, he sighed quietly and sat down in his original chair as the boy's cries finally dwindled down to nothing.

The blonde woman let out a relieved breath as she turned to Roman, holding her son closer to her. "Thank you so much for fixing that radio," she said, and he noticed that she sounded as exhausted as she looked. "He hasn't stopped crying in what feels like so long..."

Roman glanced over and met her gaze, nodding a couple times. "You're welcome," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

A couple of minutes passed as the young woman watched him pull his long black hair back into a ponytail to combat the heat, her gaze traveling over the tattoo that covered his right arm to the bruises and cuts that marked his scruff-lined face. "You're not from around here, are you?" she wondered quietly. "Everyone knows everyone in this town, and I've never seen you before."

"No, just passing through." Roman looked back at her again, noticing that she appeared to be in her early twenties, if that.

The woman nodded slightly in an almost thoughtful way. "That... that happens from time to time," she told him. "This town doesn't really get too many visitors. We're kinda off the map, you know?" Then, a small smile appeared on her face. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? My name's Isabella, and this little guy is Jackson."

"Nice to meet you." He shook the hand she offered him. "I'm Roman."

"Good to meet you, Roman." Isabella's smile broadened slightly. "You're nicer than most outsiders we get here."

"Oh, um... thank you." Roman shifted in his chair slightly, really not knowing what to say to that. The comment made him feel somewhat uncomfortable.

Isabella glanced down at Jackson, seeing that he was snuggling against her as he started to nod off. "So, how long will you be staying?" she asked.

Roman hesitated on his answer. He didn't want to tell the young woman too much, and he knew that all he wanted to do was find Seth and Dean and get out of there as soon as possible. "Not long," he finally settled on telling her. "Just, uh, gonna meet up with my friends again, and then we're gonna head out."

A sad look passed over Isabella's face as she lowered her gaze, and Roman felt slightly anxious. "Something wrong?" he wondered.

A moment passed before Isabella reluctantly met his gaze. "Look, Roman, you're a nice guy," she muttered. "But... if I were you, I would get out of here while you still have a chance. Before it's too late."

Dread caused Roman's stomach to plummet. He couldn't even think about leaving this town in the middle of nowhere without at least looking for his friends. "What... what do you mean? I can't leave yet..."

Isabella's light eyes faltered. "If this is about your friends..." she began.

"Damn right it is." Roman sighed when he saw one of her eyebrows arch, passing a hand over his face. "Sorry, I just... I can't leave until I find them..."

"They're dead, Roman."

That was the last thing he had been expecting to hear, even though it had been a fear on his mind as well. Roman slowly looked back at her with wide, horror-filled eyes. "Wh-what?" he stuttered quietly.

"Your friends are dead," Isabella repeated in nearly a whisper, her voice wavering slightly. "And if they're not yet, then they will be soon. And if you don't leave here as soon as you can, then you'll be as good as dead instead."

Roman shook his head slightly, not wanting to accept her words. There was no way that Seth and Dean could be dead. Just no way...

"I'm sorry..." Isabella sighed as she leaned forward and set her hand lightly on his knee. "But I need you to trust me, Roman. I'm just trying to help you. You and your friends have no idea what it is you're stuck in. But if you leave now, then you'll survive..."

A brief moment passed before Roman pulled his leg out from under her hold, trying to come to terms with everything that she had said. It was so ridiculous. It didn't even seem possible...

What he did know for sure, however, was that if Seth and Dean really were in some kind of danger, there was no way that he could abandon them. He wasn't about to leave them behind to die if there was some chance he could find them first.

But before he could say anything, the wooden door that led to the back rooms opened as a woman with auburn hair tied tightly back in a bun stepped out, glancing down at the clipboard in her manicured hands. "Mr. Reigns," she announced.

Roman quickly looked back at Isabella, but she had busied herself with checking on Jackson and didn't even seem to notice that his name had been called. Knowing that she was just trying to ignore his stare, he sighed as he rose to his feet and walked around the low table before following the woman down a narrow hallway. There weren't many doors, just the one that led into the receptionist's office and two adjacent ones at the other end.

When they reached the end of the hall, Roman noticed that one of these doors was open, and he glanced inside curiously. His eyes widened when he saw that blood stained the thinly-cushioned bed as well as the floor around it.

"That's where our more severe procedures take place," the auburn-haired nurse explained, glancing back at him as she opened the second door. "I apologize for the delay in being able to get you in, but we just had an amputation."

Not knowing quite what to say in response, Roman simply nodded as he followed her inside the other room, seeing that a similar thinly-cushioned bed with fresh white sheets was inside. The woman gestured for him to sit, and he sighed as he slowly lowered himself onto it while she set her clipboard down on the counter and turned on the sink to wash her hands. He had to wonder if there was a back door somewhere since no one had come into the waiting room aside from him and Isabella, and there had been no amputee patient in the other room.

He was just starting to look over the couple of exercise charts that were hanging on the walls when the nurse approached him with a few supplies in her hands. "You're the man who was found at the accident near the highway, correct?" she asked, setting the small pile down on the bed next to him.

"Yes," Roman answered simply with no real feeling in his tone.

The nurse nodded as she picked up a short piece of gauze and dumped some clear liquid out of an unmarked bottle onto it. "This may sting a little," she cautioned before she began to dab at the gash in his forehead.

Roman winced when the liquid came in contact with the small open wound, clenching his jaw to stop the couple of choice curse words that rushed to his mind from escaping. He wasn't as worried about what it was now since he recognized the strong smell of the alcohol that was used to kill infections. He waited as she continued to clean the gash before she moved on to his split lip, a couple minutes passing before she cleared all the blood from his features. She then took a small ice pack and began rubbing it on the bruises that were also present on his face.

"Your cheek may be a bit swollen for a while," she commented.

"That's okay," Roman muttered. "I'm used to that."

"Well, then, hold this on there," the nurse instructed, waiting until he was holding the ice pack in place himself before picking up the next part of the supplies she had brought over. "Now, I need you to hold completely still."

"Okay." Roman watched as she draped a towel over her arm before she moved the needle in her hand closer, beginning to stitch the small gash in his forehead. His eyes twitched a couple times as she continued to work since it stung a bit, but it wasn't unbearable. The nurse used the towel to dab at the fresh blood that was making itself known as she continued to stitch, and a few minutes later, her task was complete.

"The stitches are going to itch for a while, but you can't scratch at them," she told him, carefully wiping the last of the blood off his forehead before she applied some protective ointment.

Roman gave her a small smile. "I've had stitches before," he said, removing the ice pack from his cheek before holding it out to her.

The nurse didn't seem to be as optimistic about his retort as he did as she took it and set it down on the bed. "Well, then there's no reason for me to repeat all this information," she replied curtly. "You're free to go."

"Thank you." Roman gladly stood from the uncomfortable bed, pausing for a moment when his lower back protested to the motion. The nurse glanced over at him, but he simply gave her a nod and left the room, not wanting to stay in the walk-in clinic any longer than he had to. There was something about the place that made him uncomfortable.

When he reached the other room where the more severe procedures took place, Roman chanced a small glance inside and saw that there was a bald man wearing a simple brown t-shirt and pants that were somewhat dirt and grass stained pulling the blood-stained sheets off of the thin bed. He slipped them into a black garbage bag sitting at his feet, where there was also a bucket of soapy water and a mop so that he could scrub the floors clean.

But at the sound of him walking by, the bald man quickly looked up with an almost accusing look in his light eyes, and Roman immediately stared straight ahead of him and sped his pace a bit as he continued to walk down the plain, narrow hall. He definitely wanted to get out of there as soon as he possibly could.

He felt a slight weight lift from his shoulders when he stepped back into the waiting room, greeted by the soft, slow guitar melody that now filtered through the speakers of the newly fixed radio. His dark eyes were immediately drawn to Isabella, who was sitting in the same chair as she gently rocked Jackson to keep him asleep. Hearing him enter the room, the young blonde mother slowly looked up, gazing at him with an almost pleading look in her eyes. Roman, however, just let out a deep breath and shook his head slightly, lowering his gaze as he crossed the room to the receptionist's window.

The older woman raised her gaze from her appointment book when he approached, slipping her wire-rimmed glasses to sit a bit higher up on the bridge of her nose. "What did you have done, dear?" she asked.

"Stitches," Roman answered, pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans. "I don't have much money on me... Do you have an ATM anywhere?"

"How much you got?" the receptionist wondered, lightly chewing on the cap at the end of her pen and faintly staining it with her multiple layers of bold red lipstick.

"Um..." Roman flipped through the bills that were in the biggest pocket. "A twenty, a five, and a few singles."

The older woman leaned forward slightly. "Tell you what, hun," she said. "I know you're not from around here. But you fixed our radio for us. Just give me the five, and we'll call it even."

Roman looked at her with disbelief for a moment before he pulled the five dollar bill out of his wallet and offered it to her. "Thank you," he replied. "I mean, I can also give you the twenty..."

However, the receptionist shook her head and took the bill from him. "It was only stitches, for goodness sake," she told him with a slight shrug as she put the money in the register. "They shouldn't be that expensive. Have a good day now."

"You too."

"Miss Richards."

Roman glanced up from sliding his wallet back into his pocket, seeing that the auburn-haired nurse had returned to the waiting room with her clipboard. He glanced back at Isabella, watching as she carefully rose from her chair with Jackson in her arms and began to make her way across the small waiting room. She paused when she reached him, lightly setting a hand on his arm.

"Please, Roman. Remember what I said," she whispered.

"I will," Roman muttered with a slight nod. "But you also have to remember what _I_ said."

A defeated look crossed Isabella's face as she lowered her gaze, shifting Jackson to a more comfortable position in her arms as she walked over to the nurse waiting for them in hopes of being able to get something helpful for her son's whooping cough. Roman watched after her until she disappeared through the door that led to the narrow hall and the two back rooms and nodded once when he saw the charming smile that the receptionist was giving him before he sighed quietly and walked away from the window, pulling open the door and stepping out into the bright afternoon sun.

**Author's Note**: That's it for this one! Some more unanswered questions here, and Roman's getting his first look at this town that they're stranded in. Will he find Seth and Dean? We'll have to keep going to find out! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing associated with the WWE. Just any OCs!

**Summary**: After a car accident leaves them stranded in the middle of nowhere, the members of the Shield find themselves wrapped up in a deadly game where no one can be trusted but each other. But there is one catch– the game is intended for only one winner, and to lose is to die.

**Author's Note**: Hey, guys! Thanks for all your reviews! I'm glad to see that you're all on this crazy ride with me and that you're enjoying this story so much! :) I really appreciate it! So, what's going to happen next with our guys? Well, we're about to find out! Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy this one, too! :)

_Chapter 3_

"Carefully, Seth. Carefully."

Seth clenched his jaw tightly as he fully stretched both of his legs in front of him, angling them so that they sat as comfortably as they could next to Dean's. There was so little space, however, that he couldn't prevent them from touching the other man's.

"Don't worry about it," Dean muttered before Seth could say anything. "It's not a big deal."

Letting out a long sigh, Seth simply nodded and closed his eyes as he waited for the pain in his ribs to die down. It was something that was always there, but aggravating them with movement had only made it worse.

Dean watched the other man for a long moment, sighing quietly with concern. If that small motion had caused his friend so much pain, he wasn't sure what would happen if they finally ever did have a chance to get out of wherever they were since Seth could hardly move without discomfort. It was going to be difficult, but what he did know for sure was that he wasn't just going to leave him there.

Finally, he let out a loud, frustrated noise as he straightened up away from the wall behind him, slowly pushing himself to his feet. He nearly staggered and paused, waiting for the sudden dizziness to pass and the pain in his stiff muscles to lessen before he started to slowly pace back and forth. Seth watched him curiously for a moment before he sighed.

"Dean... what are you doing?"

"I'm too restless to sit," Dean told him, flexing his fingers in attempt to get feeling back into his hands and arms. "Plus, we got in here somehow, right? There has to be a way in and out."

Understanding dawned in Seth's eyes as he watched the other man continue to walk around the small space, starting to look around himself even though it was difficult to see with how dimly lit the room was. He was right. There had to be a door or something since there was no other explanation for how they could have gotten there.

Dean sighed as he finished his first sweep of the small space, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Shit!"

The sudden anger from his friend was startling. "What... what is it?" Seth wondered.

"There's no fucking door!" Dean quickly turned to look at him. "How can that..." But a sudden realization came over him then, and his sentence slowly trailed off.

"You're right, how can there not be a door?" Seth muttered, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looked at the four walls around them carefully. "We had to get in somehow..." Clenching his jaw tightly, he slowly pushed himself away from the wall and began to try to get to his feet to help him.

Dean was brought out of his thoughts when he heard the quiet sound of pain, and his eyes widened when he saw that the other man was attempting to stand. "Seth, stop!" He quickly crossed the short distance over to him, firmly setting his foot on his leg to keep him down. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Seth took a deep breath, at least as deep as he could without increased pain. "Dean..." he began, but he didn't get a chance to finish.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Seth raised his dark eyes toward the ceiling as the heavy sound from above them drew nearer, and Dean's gaze followed it until it finally stopped nearly right over their heads. "Footsteps," the latter murmured, realizing with dread that he had been right about where the door was.

Then, an even louder _thump_ came from above them, causing both men to jump, before bright light suddenly flooded into the small space. Dean cursed heatedly under his breath as he closed his eyes while Seth turned his head away. After being kept in the dark room for so long, the sudden change was blinding.

"Still alive down there?"

Dean slowly opened his eyes. The raised male voice had hints of a southern twang to it, but otherwise there was nothing too distinguishable to be able to commit it to memory. He exchanged a quick look with Seth before he cast his gaze upward, squinting slightly to try to see the outline of the figure standing at the edge of the square of light that was the door in the ceiling.

"Who wants to know?" he demanded.

The man didn't say anything before he was gone from sight. Seth let out a low breath. "Well... we found our door," he said.

Dean began to pace back and forth again, groaning quietly with frustration. "Yes, but that still leaves us with the problem of how we're supposed to get the hell outta here," he replied heavily. "Damn it..."

Seth watched him for a moment before closing his eyes, the light from above them still painful to look at. "I don't think we're supposed to, Dean..."

The resignation in his friend's tone made Dean stop and look at him with disbelief. "Damn it, you asshole!" he snapped, walking back across the small space to stand directly in front of him. He didn't mean to raise his voice or get angry, but he wasn't going to let him say something like that. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down slightly. "Listen closely, Seth. We're gonna get outta here, you hear me? We're gonna get out of here."

A moment passed before Seth slowly opened his eyes, and Dean's gaze faltered when he saw the same resignation there that had been in his tone. "I'm just telling the truth." His voice remained calm, his face unreadable.

Dean's light eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could say anything, he quickly turned around and looked back up at the door above them when the sound of approaching footsteps returned. A wooden ladder was then lowered down, though he merely gazed at it skeptically. Seth stayed completely still behind him, an uncertain look crossing his face as he raised his eyes toward the top of the ladder.

Nothing happened for what felt like a lifetime. Dean resumed clenching and unclenching his fists, this time due to impatience, and Seth held his breath. Then, they both heard someone starting to come down the ladder, though it was difficult to see who it was with the light pouring in from above.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean wondered with venom, a dark look passing over his face as he made sure to stay between the new arrival and the other man. He could certainly defend himself a lot easier than Seth could, even though his hands were still tied behind his back. "And why the hell are we being kept down here? And where the hell is our friend?"

However, the man who had descended into the small space, making things much more cramped and uncomfortable than they already were, simply chuckled. "So many questions," he muttered with amusement. "If you just slowed down a little, maybe everything would be explained."

Dean opened his mouth to offer a scathing retort filled with a few of his favorite four letter words, but he was stopped when Seth kicked him on the leg from behind. He quickly glanced back at him, watching as the other man gave him a slight nod, before he angrily looked back at the new arrival. Now that his eyes were starting to adjust to the change in lighting, he was able to get a good look at him. He appeared to be a few years older than him and Seth with black hair that was tied back in a small ponytail behind his head. He was clean-shaven, and his intense dark blue eyes had yet to leave his face, watching him carefully.

But what concerned Dean the most was the beige shirt and brown pants that he was wearing, along with the badge that was visible sticking out of his breast pocket.

"Mind telling us what we did wrong, officer?" Dean asked sarcastically. "Wouldn't this be considered... I don't know... cruel and unusual punishment?"

The dark-haired man rolled his eyes. "Perhaps if you're patient, you'll find out," he answered quietly.

_Patient_. How he loathed that word under the current circumstances. Dean growled angrily, preparing to lunge despite his obvious disadvantage, but he paused when the officer pulled his handgun from his belt and aimed it directly between his eyes.

"I would think twice about doing something rash if I were you," he warned, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. Dean said nothing as he merely continued to glare at the other man.

The officer didn't seem to be intimidated, however, and his smirk only broadened as he turned to where Seth was still sitting on the floor, watching the scene with wide eyes. "You're not looking too good, buddy," he stated casually, taking a step around Dean as he stopped beside the other man. "You must have been the driver last night..."

Dread flooded through Seth at his words, and he quickly looked up at Dean, who only continued to gaze at the officer in a suspicious way. He knew about the car accident.

Then, a loud but hoarse cry of pain escaped from Seth when the new arrival landed a swift kick to his left side, all of the color leaving his face as he crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath through the intense pain. He closed his eyes tightly as his midsection pulsated in time with his racing heart, sure that at least another rib or two had been cracked under the force.

"You fucking bastard!" Dean roared angrily, not caring that his hands were tied behind his back as he quickly moved toward the officer. But his effort was immediately halted when the dark-haired man cracked him hard across the jaw with his handgun, causing him to fall to his knees.

"Now that you're both settled down, I want you to listen carefully," he said, his gaze moving from Dean to Seth and back. "You're both being held here on criminal charges. Your friend will face them too, never fear."

"What... what the fuck did we do to any of you?" Dean snapped, ignoring his throbbing jaw as he glared up at the officer. "If you hadn't noticed, _we_ were the ones who were rammed off the road!"

However, the dark-haired man simply pointed his gun at his forehead. "I would stay silent if I were you," he cautioned quietly, choosing to ignore the murderous look that crossed Dean's face. "Now, what's going to happen is very simple. You'll get your chance at freedom."

Dean almost offered another scathing retort, but he thought better of it at the last second since the firearm was still pointed at his forehead. Seth cracked one eye open to look up at him before a quiet coughing fit caused him to close it once more, a severe wave of pain moving through his ribs. "What are you playing at?" the former finally asked, keeping his voice as steady as he could.

"I'm finally glad you asked something." The officer smirked. "You see, since you are all outsiders, the rules are a little different around here, and they'll also be a little different for your friend since he isn't being kept here with you. He'll have his own challenges. But all three of you will get your chance at freedom... _if_ you're able to escape from here."

Seth's heart sank. There was no possible way that he could go anywhere, and he knew Dean was aware of that as well, even though he was keeping his face impassive.

"Your first challenge is to leave this room," the dark-haired man continued, gesturing to the small space around them. "I'll come back in five minutes. If you both make it upstairs, then we'll just have to see how this challenge continues. It will make things more fun, that much is certain. But if only of one of you makes it out of here, then the other won't continue on. And if you're both still down here... well..." He held up his gun slightly for emphasis, and there was no question what it would mean if they didn't get out of the small space in time. "Good luck. Your time starts... now." He slipped his weapon back on his belt and climbed up the ladder until he disappeared from sight.

Dean cursed heatedly under his breath as he began to pace. The good thing was that the ladder had been left behind, but it would be difficult to climb with a throbbing jaw and his hands tied behind his back. But still, there had to be some way...

Seth took as deep of a breath as he could, cringing in pain as he propped himself up slightly. "Dean..."

"Shut up for a second," Dean muttered as he continued to pace. He hated being under this kind of pressure. "I need to think."

Letting out a small sigh, Seth tried to straighten up a little more until he couldn't. "Dean..."

"Wait!" Dean suddenly came to a stop before he sat down on the hard floor with his knees up to his chest. "Watch this. I see this done in action movies all the time."

Seth's dark eyes narrowed slightly as he continued to try to catch his breath, watching as Dean's brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he began to work his hands underneath him. "Are... are your arms... flexible enough to do that... safely?" he managed to ask.

Dean paused when the muscles in his upper back and shoulders began to protest to the straining and unnatural movement, taking a deep breath as he looked up at his friend. "We're about to find out," he answered quietly. "And there's really no other choice at the moment..."

"But..." Seth's warning trailed off as the other man held his breath and continued to try to work his arms around him. His wrists were starting to burn under the pressure, throbbing in time with his shoulders, until he finally released his breath when he brought his arms to rest in front of him. He chuckled quietly in triumph and looked up at Seth with a smirk.

"There. That was easy."

Seth smiled slightly before he let out a short breath of his own and closed his eyes again. Dean pushed himself to his feet, grateful for the additional movement that he now had, and made his way over to the other man. "Now, we'll just have to carefully get you up, and..."

However, his sentence trailed off when Seth shook his head. "No? What the hell are you saying no for?"

A moment passed before Seth slowly opened his eyes and met his friend's gaze. "Dean... I'm not going to be able to get anywhere quickly," he muttered. "Especially up a ladder in a few minutes... I'm only going to hold you back..."

Dean's gaze faltered slightly as he looked down on the other man, trying to register his words. "What... what are you saying?" he wondered.

Seth gave him a small smile, though the resigned look had returned to his eye. "I'm saying... you should just go on without me," he told him quietly. "If you go up that ladder now... you'll make it, but... if you try to help me, then... then we'll both be dead..."

"No..." Dean shook his head a couple times. "Seth, I can't do that..."

"Just go, Dean," Seth said, a little more forceful this time to make his point clear. "You've probably already spent about three of your five minutes. Now get the hell out of here before he comes back!"

However, a determined expression appeared on Dean's face instead. "Stop being stupid," he replied, slight frustration in his tone. "I'm not gonna just leave you down here to die. If I'm going up that ladder, so are you. It's either both of us or neither of us."

Dread crossed Seth's face as the other man crouched down next to him, grabbing a hold of his shoulder with his tied hands. "You're making... a mistake..."

"Just shut up." Dean took a deep, quiet breath before nodding. "Okay, you need to work with me here. On the count of three, you're gonna sit up. You ready?"

Seth knew that no matter what he did his ribs would be a major factor, but since his friend was so determined, he also knew that it was now or never. "Yeah," he muttered with a slight nod. "I'm ready."

Dean's light eyes softened sadly for a moment before he gave him a slight smirk. "All righty, then. One... two... three." As soon as the word left his mouth, Dean started to help raise the other man into a sitting position. Seth clenched his jaw tightly and closed his eyes when his ribs flared with pain, attempting to catch his breath when they paused briefly.

"We gotta keep going, man," Dean muttered, concern in his gaze. "It's gonna hurt like hell, but we can't stop yet."

"I... I know..." Seth's eyes slowly fluttered open before he nodded slightly. "Let's... let's just do it..."

"That a boy." Dean inwardly cursed the officer for causing more damage to his friend's already injured ribs, dreading that more could possibly be broken now if they hadn't been before. But he didn't have much time to think about it since that was the one thing that was continually slipping away from them. "Okay. Now we've just gotta get you to your feet. Again, on three. One... two..."

But he didn't have time to finish his count.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

The sound of heavy footsteps drew nearer once again, causing Dean's heart to drop. Seth sighed from next to him. "I told you... you should have just gone when you had the chance..."

"Shut up." Dean glanced at the ladder nervously, hearing the footsteps slow as they approached the door in the ceiling. He then carefully helped Seth to lean back against the hard wall behind him. "I know what I'm doing, okay?"

"Do you?" Seth appeared slightly incredulous as he looked back at the other man.

However, Dean just chuckled. "Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me, Seth?" he asked.

Before Seth could answer, the dark-haired officer made his way back down the ladder, and an amused glint entered his deep blue eyes when he saw that both of his prisoners were still there. "Well, this is disappointing," he said lightly. "I thought you would have wanted to make this more fun."

Dean rose to his feet and turned to face him, a smirk appearing at the corner of his lips. "You really do enjoy watching people run like cowards, don't you, you sick bastard?" he countered.

The officer crossed his arms. "I choose not to look at it that way, but rather as giving people a chance to earn their own freedom," he muttered. "Though, to be completely honest, I can't deny the thrill of the chase."

"Fair enough, I suppose." Dean tilted his head slightly. "You know, since that's what you love so much, don't you think it's a waste to slaughter us here like this? There's nothing thrilling about that."

Seth looked up at Dean curiously while the dark-haired man just shook his head. "I see what you're trying to do, but your little reverse psychology tricks aren't going to work on me," he told him. "Unfortunately for all of us, this is the rule of our little game. But don't worry. Your... _sacrifices_ will make it possible for your friend to live."

Dean kept his expression stoic, though his light gaze faltered slightly. If they died, Roman would survive? This whole set-up didn't make much sense to him, but he wasn't going to show that. Not as long as they still had a chance to escape.

"Now," the officer continued, pulling his handgun off of his belt and ensuring that it was loaded. "The only question left is..." He smirked, pointing the weapon at Dean and then at Seth and back. "Who's first?"

A long moment passed where no one moved, and the only sound that was heard was three distinct whispers of breath. Then, the dark-haired man chuckled. "Very well. I guess I'll decide then." He smiled slightly before he slowly aimed the gun directly at Seth, whose dark eyes widened in fear.

"You first."

* * *

"Damn it..."

Roman sighed quietly to himself, pushing the button on the vending machine another time. He had already fed it two of the singles he had on him, which was plenty for the bag of chips that he was trying to get out of it, and it still wasn't completely responsive. After leaving the walk-in clinic, he had been directed to the sheriff's station at the center of town, the short walk making him realize just how small the place actually was. Not only was everything within walking distance, but from the station, he could almost see everything that the town had to offer. There was only one road that led in and out, and aside from houses, all that the place really consisted of was the station, the clinic, one school, a motel, a convenience store, and a bar. He didn't think that Seth and Dean were anywhere in the town since he either would have seen them somewhere or at least heard about them being there, especially since he was getting suspicious glances everywhere he went and news seemed to travel fast. No, they had to be somewhere else.

But having grown restless sitting in the lobby just to be allowed in to see the sheriff that had found him after the accident, Roman had wandered down a small side hallway that led to this vending machine. However, he was beginning to feel as though it had been a wasted trip since all it had accomplished in doing was cause him more unnecessary frustration that he really didn't need.

"You just have to hit it. This thing's almost as old as the town is."

Roman glanced over his shoulder at the sudden voice, watching as a blond-haired man wearing a beige shirt and brown pants similar to the sheriff's approached him with a small smile on his face. The officer then reached out and pounded on the glass of the machine a couple times, the vibration causing the bag to fall from its holder. He bent over and grabbed it, chuckling quietly as he held it out to the other man.

"An exaggeration, of course," he continued. "That's the one you wanted, right?"

"Yeah." Roman took the bag of chips from him before he hit the coin return button on the machine, causing his change to appear as well. "Thanks." When the officer just nodded in return, he sighed quietly as he slipped the coins in his wallet. "If you don't mind me asking, how old is this place?"

The officer smiled as he pulled a walkie-talkie out of his pocket and checked it. "This town's been around since the early eighteen hundreds," he told him, putting the small electronic device away again. "There's obviously been some renovations since then, but a lot's been kept the same. We don't like the fast pace of the world around us. We much prefer this sort of lifestyle."

Roman nodded slightly as he opened the bag and ate a couple of the sour cream and onion flavored chips. That would explain why it felt as though time had gone backwards after the accident. "I don't think I could do it," he admitted quietly with a small smile. "I don't know what I would do without what I have. I mean, I'm always on the move and on the road so much that I couldn't talk to my family or my friends without it, and that's something I couldn't go without doing."

"Yeah, that's what a lot of outsiders say when they see our way of life," the officer replied. "But here, you wouldn't have to leave your family and friends, so all that electronic communication isn't really needed." He paused for a moment before he chuckled. "Oh, my name's Deputy Richards, by the way. But you can just call me Jim." He held out his hand.

Richards. He knew that last name. A small smile graced Roman's features as he reached out and shook the officer's proffered hand. "Just call me Roman," he said.

"Good to meet you, Roman." Jim dropped his hand before he pulled his walkie-talkie out of his pocket again, sighing quietly and shaking his head slightly when he clearly wasn't met with the result he wanted before putting it away again.

Roman gazed at him curiously as he ate another chip. "Is there a reason why you keep checking that?" he wondered.

Jim quickly looked up and met his gaze before he smiled. "Yeah, my partner, Deputy Tom Stevens, is investigating a couple farms that are out some ways from here," he explained. "I'm just waiting to see if he's got everything under control or if he needs any help."

"It's a nice area for farming," Roman commented, remembering from driving into the town with the sheriff that there had been miles and miles of wheatgrass that surrounded it. "Were there complaints or something?"

An unreadable glint appeared in Jim's eye. "You could say that."

Roman gazed at him for a long moment before he nodded once, unsure of what to make of his response. "And about how many farms do you have in this area?" he asked casually.

"Well, many of our citizens make their living by farming," Jim answered, his smile returning. "It's an honest living that really drives our economy that families can do together. But, unfortunately, due to changing weather and climate and all that, and some funding issues, a few of the farms had to shut down and have been abandoned for years. A lot of kids like to make trouble out there sometimes, though I'm sure you know how they can be. But that's not really answering your question, is it?" He paused with a chuckle. "We probably have somewhere between ten and fifteen active farms still. They stop before they reach the mountains."

Mulling this information over, Roman ate a couple more chips. He wondered for a moment if his friends were somewhere out in those farmlands, especially ones that were no longer running. He had a feeling that troublemaking kids may not have been the disturbance that the officer's partner was investigating, not with how anxious Jim seemed to be about receiving a report.

"Well, I suppose I should get going," Jim spoke up. "I'm sure the sheriff will see you soon, and I've got some business to take care of myself. It was good to talk to you for a little while, though I'd like to hear more about your case. Maybe later on if you're not busy, we could meet up at the beer hall for some drinks, and we could discuss it more."

Knowing that he meant the bar, Roman smiled slightly himself. "Uh, yeah, sure. Sounds good to me," he said.

"Good, good." Jim reached out and shook his hand again with a chuckle. "I'll see you around, Roman."

"Okay," Roman agreed, eating a couple more chips as the officer walked quickly back down the hall, once more checking his walkie-talkie and once more seeming disappointed as he disappeared from sight. He waited for a moment longer before he began walking back into the lobby himself, sitting down in the chair he had originally claimed in the corner of the small room. His dark eyes scanned the walls, noticing the wanted posters that were hanging there as well as community events that were approaching in the coming weeks.

Then, his gaze landed on a sign that caught his attention, and he slowly rose to his feet and crossed the lobby to get a better look at it. It appeared as though there was some mining taking place out in the mountains, and Roman knew it must have been the range that was sitting just beyond the areas of farmland that Jim had been talking about. He had to get out there somehow to look for Seth and Dean, but he was also painfully aware that he wouldn't be able to get very far without some sort of guide. He wouldn't be able to find his friends if he himself didn't know where he was.

"Reigns."

Roman glanced over his shoulder at the familiar voice, seeing that the sheriff was standing at the door of his office and staring at him intently from behind his dark sunglasses. Sighing quietly, he passed the front desk and approached the office, following the older man into the even smaller room. The sheriff closed the blinds that hung over the door before he walked around Roman, setting his cowboy hat down on the desk and slipping his sunglasses off before he sat down in his seat behind it. He then gestured to the wooden chair across from him, and the younger man slowly sat down as well.

"Now, I need you to tell me _exactly_ what happened in the accident last night," the sheriff stated, leaning forward on his desk slightly. "Every detail."

"Well..." Roman's gaze landed on the plain, simple nameplate that sat on the edge of the wooden surface, seeing that the older man's name was Robert Perry. "We had finished a show in Charleston," he explained. "Sometimes we stay in the city we perform in for the night, but since we had another show out-of-state tonight, we left along with the rest of our company."

"Will they be looking for you, boy?" Robert suddenly asked, an unreadable look in his eye.

Roman shrugged slightly. "Probably," he answered. "It's not like us not to show up without an explanation. I'm sure they've been trying to contact us since we should have been there by now." He pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans, running a finger lightly over the cracked screen to light it up. His gaze faltered slightly when it landed on his fiancée and young daughter smiling back at him before it hardened with frustration when he saw that he still had no service. It made sense, however, considering he hadn't seen a cell phone tower anywhere near the area.

"But it's unlikely that they'll even find this town," Roman concluded, putting his phone away again. "From what I've been told, you guys are pretty much off the map."

A look of what resembled relief crossed the sheriff's face. "All right, so tell me more about what happened with the accident," he prompted.

Roman gazed at him for a moment, feeling slightly uneasy. Something was a bit off, he just wasn't quite sure what. All he knew was that he had to be careful about what it was he said. "After a couple hours of driving, we decided to pull off the highway," he told him. "We were running low on gas, and my friends decided that we would get some snacks for the rest of the trip at the same time. I was texting my fiancée, telling her about how the show went, and she was telling me about how our daughter was doing." He paused for a moment, a somber look passing his face before he went on. "We thought that we could have possibly reached the state line already if not passed it. It was dark on the side road, and there weren't any other cars. Or, so we thought. We began to drive under the overpass, and... and these blinding headlights came out of nowhere. We heard squealing tires, something rammed into us and forced us off the road, there was a crash, and... that's all I remember."

Robert nodded thoughtfully as he listened to his account. "Did you see anything about this second car that would help us to identify it?"

"No," Roman muttered with a slight shake of his head. "We didn't even know there was another one until right before it hit us. It seemed like it was waiting for us or something..."

"Very well." Robert sighed as he leaned back in his chair a little and opened his desk drawer. "That's not very much to go off of, boy, but we'll do what we can. Deputies Richards and Stevens are my two best officers. I'll have them look into it. Meanwhile, I've begun to make these signs to put around town as well as out to the farmlands we have. Why don't you take a look at 'em and tell me what you think?"

Roman reached out and took the stack of white papers the sheriff was offering to him, seeing from the top sheet that the older man had scanned the picture of him, Seth, and Dean he had given him earlier in black and white and enlarged it for the center of the sign. There were no words yet. "Yeah, I think that it's a good start for a missing persons poster," he said, handing them back.

"Yeah, you could call 'em that," Robert replied, setting the pile down on his desk. "Now, what I need you to do is to write down their names so I can put them on these before we start hanging 'em up."

"Sure." Roman watched as the sheriff reached into his desk again before pulling out a notepad and pencil and offering it to him. He neatly wrote down "Seth Rollins" and "Dean Ambrose" on it so the names could be read, but he was slightly confused when the older man raised a hand when he tried to hand it back.

"Why don't you write your own name on there too, boy?" he suggested. "That way, I can include you as a person to contact other than myself if they're spotted anywhere."

"Okay, yeah." Roman then quickly added his own name to the notepad and handed it back to him.

Robert smiled and nodded as he set it down on top of the posters. "Thank you, that will help a lot," he told him. "Don't worry, boy. We'll find your friends."

"I appreciate it." Roman rose to his feet, intending to leave the office, before the sheriff spoke up from behind him again.

"Hold on a minute, boy."

Roman paused and glanced over his shoulder, watching as the older man reached into his desk a third time and pulled out a small photograph. "Thought you might want this back," the latter muttered, holding it out to him.

When Roman took the picture from his proffered hand, a small smile appeared on his face. It was the original photo of him, Seth, and Dean. "Thank you," he said, slipping it back into his wallet where it belonged. "I was also wondering when I would be able to get our luggage bags back."

Robert nodded. "You'll get those returned to you when you arrive at your room tonight," he said. "Have a good day, boy."

"You too." Roman let out a quiet breath of relief as he turned away from the desk again, stepping out of the office before he closed the door behind him.

**Author's Note**: Well, that's it for this one! And Seth and Dean are in a bit of a jam, and Roman appears to be making some progress with trying to find them. But whether he'll be successful is another question entirely. And what do you guys make of this town? Anyway, until next time! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing associated with the WWE. Just any OCs!

**Summary**: After a car accident leaves them stranded in the middle of nowhere, the members of the Shield find themselves wrapped up in a deadly game where no one can be trusted but each other. But there is one catch– the game is intended for only one winner, and to lose is to die.

**Author's Note**: Hey, guys! Thanks for the reviews! How are Dean and Seth going to get out of this mess? Well, keep on reading to find out! Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy this one, too!

_Chapter 4_

"You first."

Seth stared down the barrel of the gun with horror, his dark eyes wide. He had always heard that one's life flashed before their eyes when faced with a near-death experience, but the pain in his ribs was almost to the point of being mind-numbing. There was no moment where memories from his childhood flooded his mind or where he was able to reflect on the accomplishments he had fulfilled in his life or regrets that he still had. It was just pain along with only one single thought as he watched the dark-haired man starting to pull back on the trigger.

_I'm going to die._

"No. Shoot me."

The officer paused and turned his gaze to Dean beside him, an intrigued look passing over his face, as Seth looked up at his friend with horror. "I beg your pardon?" he said.

"You heard me." Dean smirked as he met his gaze. "Shoot me first. Go ahead. I dare ya. Unless you're not man enough, that is."

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" Seth asked anxiously, but the other man simply ignored him.

The officer arched an eyebrow at the challenge. "Very well," he muttered, turning the firearm in Dean's direction. "You'll be first, then. And you know, I think I'll actually end up enjoying this after all. You run your mouth so much..."

"Yeah, I'm sure you will then." Dean's smirk lingered as the dark-haired man then lightly set the barrel of his gun against his forehead.

"Any last words?"

A thoughtful look appeared on Dean's face before he shook his head slightly. "Nope! Not that I can think of right off hand, anyway," he told him. "Though you are kinda putting me under pressure, so I don't have time to think of anything creative or memorable."

The officer laughed a little. "Well, I'll be damned. And here I thought that you would be talking my ear off–!"

However, he never got to finish. Instead, his sentence ended in a cry of surprise when Dean's shoulder suddenly rammed into his jaw, the force causing him to drop the gun. The metallic weapon landed on the hard floor and skidded until it hit Seth's foot. Dean then grabbed a hold of the officer's dark hair and roughly shoved him into the wall behind him, causing him to fall to the ground before he stomped on him hard a few times. Once he was satisfied that the other man wouldn't be getting up for at least a little while, Dean dropped to one knee beside him and began to dig through his pockets, smiling triumphantly when he found a small pocketknife.

"De... Dean..."

At the quiet voice, Dean quickly glanced over his shoulder at Seth, watching as his friend kicked the gun in his direction. He reached out and grabbed it, but before he could straighten up completely, a heavy fist collided with the back of his head, causing him to stumble forward and drop both of the weapons. The dark-haired officer reached over Dean, his fingers grasping for the gun on the floor, before he was kicked forcefully away. Dean quickly picked up the firearm himself and turned to face the other man, but his eyes widened when the officer's hands wrapped tightly around his throat, cutting off his air supply.

Seth watched the scene in horror for a moment longer before he clenched his jaw tightly and began to push himself to his feet to try to help, but he paused when a sudden loud sound echoed around the small space. He watched in disbelief as the officer wavered for a moment before collapsing limply to the ground while Dean started to cough forcefully as air rushed back into his lungs.

"What... what the fuck did you do?" Seth asked in nearly a whisper, his eyes lingering on the lifeless body of the dark-haired man as a small puddle of crimson began to form from under him. The sound of the gunshot was still echoing in his ears.

Dean slowly turned back to him, keeping a tight hold on the firearm in his hand. "I... I had no choice..." he answered in between his gasps for breath. "I had to... so we could survive... I mean, that's what this supposed... fucking game is about, right? Surviving?"

Seth nodded slightly, still somewhat in shock as he let out a long, shaking breath of his own and briefly closed his eyes. The other man glanced back at the officer he had shot for a brief moment before he walked away from him and dropped to his knees next to his friend, setting the gun down on the floor. He picked up the pocketknife he had found and exposed the blade, sticking the handle securely between his teeth and beginning to run the rope that tightly bound his hands together over the sharp edge.

A few minutes later, the rope began to loosen, and Dean sighed with relief when he was finally able to pull his hands free. He dropped the small knife into his palm as the rope fell to the floor, and he began to clench and unclench his fingers as he winced when the blood flow painfully began to return to normal.

"Damn, that hurts..." he muttered after a long moment as he turned his attention to Seth. "I'm gonna need you to turn around now, man."

"Sure." Seth winced as he began to turn his body so that his back was away from the wall, stopping when the other man set a hand on his shoulder.

"That's enough," Dean told him. "No need to strain those ribs yet."

A small smirk appeared on Seth's face. "Right, that happens in a couple minutes when we actually try to leave," he said quietly.

Dean chuckled as he nodded a couple times, running the blade of the pocketknife over the rope that held his friend's hands together as quickly as he could. "You got that right," he confirmed. He smiled slightly when he finally cut all the way through the restraints, pulling the rope away and dropping it on the floor. "Okay, you're free. But move slowly because it'll hurt."

"Thanks for the warning," Seth replied through a wince as he cautiously moved his stiff arms to come to a stop in front him, clenching and unclenching his fists as well when his hands began to tingle.

"See? I've never given you a reason to doubt me." Dean's smile lingered as he closed the blade of the knife and stuck it into his pocket for safe keeping. His gaze landed on the gun where it was still sitting in its place on the floor before he picked that up as well, knowing that would also be a good thing to have just in case.

A sudden thought occurred to him then, and Dean rose to his feet as he made his way back over to the officer. He kicked him in the side just to make sure that he actually was dead before he crouched beside him and pulled his badge out of his shirt pocket. "Deputy Tom Stevens," he read before tossing the wallet away and turning to Seth. "Fuck, man, this guy's gonna be missed..."

Seth nodded in agreement. "We'll have to get out of here as soon as possible," he muttered, casting his dark eyes from his friend to the ladder with purpose.

Dean rolled his eyes. "If you still think that I'm gonna just leave you down here and go on my merry way, you've got another thing coming." He crossed the small space back to the other man with a sigh, gazing at him with concern. "Now, let's get you on your feet."

Seth looked back at him, dreading the pain he knew the motion was going to cause his ribs, but he set his jaw with determination and nodded once. The sooner he could get out of this small space and away from the dead body of the deputy who had planned to kill them, the better. Dean then took his arm and wound it around his neck before wrapping his free arm around his waist for added support, taking a deep breath.

"You ready?" he wondered.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Seth told him with a small smile.

Dean nodded once. "On the count of three then," he muttered. "One... two... three."

Seth closed his eyes as they both began to push themselves to their feet, a quiet pained sound escaping from him when they managed to make it upright. He hunched forward slightly, his free hand on his side since his ribs had flared with excruciating pain at the straining motion, causing him to lean on his friend in order to stay standing. Dean also noticed with concern that all of the color had left the other man's face.

"We have to keep moving," he said, trying to be assuring. "We don't know who else knows we're here..."

When he got no protest from Seth, Dean led him toward the ladder and took his arm from around his neck. "You go on first," he continued. "I'll help ya."

Seth opened his eyes and nodded before he reached out and stepped onto the first couple rungs of the ladder. It was slow going due to the broken ribs, and there were a couple times where he didn't think he'd be able to make it to the top since the burning pain was beginning to spread through his entire torso. But with Dean's hand on his back guiding and pushing him on from behind since he was climbing right after him, the two men finally found themselves on the main level of wherever they had been held captive.

The sun was setting lower in the sky, but it was still nearly blinding compared to the amount of light that had filtered into the small space below. But once his eyes finally adjusted, Dean saw that they appeared to be in a wooden shed, its floor covered with straw. There were no windows and no door aside from two tall rectangular gaps in the side of the building that were the same size and shape as a doorway. Aside from them, it was completely empty.

"Well, I can see why we were kept here," he muttered to no one in particular. "Looks like no one's been out here for ages..." He turned to where the other man had been standing, alarmed to see that he had dropped to one knee and his breath was coming hard and ragged. "Seth!"

"I... I'll be okay..." Seth slowly raised his head to meet his friend's eyes. "Don't worry..."

Dean's gaze faltered when he saw that his face was still as pale as it had been before and that his eyes were a little too bright. "I know," he replied. "But we've gotta keep going. It's only a matter of time before someone realizes that deputy won't be coming back, and they'll come looking. We don't know who's all involved in this stupid thing. Could be anyone..."

Seth weakly nodded, allowing his friend to take his arm and wrap it around his neck again before Dean wrapped his arm behind his back for added support as he helped him to his feet. A pained whimper was all that passed through his lips this time, but Dean immediately began to walk toward the makeshift door as Seth tried to keep in step beside him. The two friends stepped out onto a grassy lawn that was all dried up, yellowed, and withered, pausing for only a moment to get an idea of their surroundings.

The shed that they had been kept in wasn't the only one there. There was a larger one that also had no windows but instead had three broad archways that made for the door, and a smaller shed that had no door at all. The wood on all three was dark and faded, aged and tattered, and was falling apart in many places. There was also a fourth building that resembled a house with a proper door and windows as well as a quarter of a wooden fence surrounding it and a dead white tree in what was supposed to be the yard. However, it was dark inside and a couple of the windows were broken, and it was just as abandoned as the sheds around it were. It appeared to have been a farm of some sort at one time. Just beyond the wooden structures and past the dead power lines was a line of trees with a hill behind them that led to somewhere unknown.

After waiting for another moment to allow Seth to catch his breath, Dean began to lead them toward the trees that were sitting at the base of the hill. Having no idea where to start since he didn't have any idea where they even were, he figured this would allow for the greatest chance of some degree of safety if more people were to come looking for them.

He only hoped that he was making the right decision.

* * *

Roman let out a slow, quiet breath as he gazed out at the fields of swaying wheatgrass before him. The sun was low in the sky, casting the grasslands in a soft golden light. It would have been a peaceful sight if he hadn't been so filled with dread.

He finished off the last couple chips from the bag he had gotten at the station, folding it a few times and sticking it in the back pocket of his jeans to throw away later before turning his gaze back out to the fields. He thought he could start to make out small silhouettes of silos and other buildings that would be needed for farmland, but just how many there were including the ones that were now shut down was difficult to say.

However, he still had the nagging feeling that Seth and Dean were out there somewhere, and his stomach tightened nervously when his eyes moved to the looming mountain range beyond the fields. He dreaded to think what could happen if his friends were stuck out there with nowhere to go...

"Hey, there you are, Roman! I've been looking for you, man!"

Surprised by the sudden cheerful voice from behind him, Roman glanced over his shoulder to see that Deputy Jim Richards was walking quickly toward him with a smile on his face. "I was just getting a better look at the countryside," he muttered, moving his gaze back out to the surrounding wheatgrass. "It's beautiful out here."

Jim's smile broadened as he stopped beside him. "It really is," he agreed. "There's nothing like it, especially when you're able to watch a sunset like this one."

When Roman simply nodded, the deputy decided to continue. "I grew up here with my sister. We would always watch these sunsets together, and now she's able to do that with her son." He paused as his gaze faltered slightly. "But I've always believed that this was a perfect spot to raise a family." He glanced at the other man. "Do you have a family of your own, Roman?"

"Yes," Roman muttered, a small smile on his face. "My fiancée lives with our three-year-old daughter in Florida. Pensacola. We're spoiled by our sunsets there as well. It's one of the most beautiful sights in the world, made better only by seeing it with the two most important people in my life. Whenever I'm home with them, all three of us will sit on the beach until it's dark and our little girl is asleep." He chuckled quietly. "She tries so hard to stay awake until the end, but she's never quite able to. But someday she will. I talk to her on the phone every night, and she's always telling me that she's able to stay awake for a couple minutes longer and wishes I could be there to see. She sounds so proud." He paused. "I just... I hope she's not angry with me for not calling her tonight..."

"You're not married?" Jim asked with an arched eyebrow.

Roman glanced back at him, narrowing his dark eyes slightly. "No," he answered with a brief shake of his head. "My job keeps me on the road so much that it's difficult to plan for an actual wedding." He met the deputy's gaze. "But that doesn't mean I don't love those two girls any less."

Jim held up his hands in a placating manner. "I didn't mean to insinuate that, Roman, I really didn't," he said. "I can tell by the way you talk about them that they mean the world to you. It's just that around here, families usually stick together and children usually come after marriage." He laughed a little. "And I'm sure that your little girl will be fine if you don't call her for one night. It sounds like she knows her daddy loves her."

Once more, Roman simply nodded, but he kept a careful eye on the other man. A moment passed before Jim's grin returned as he patted him on the arm. "But hey, I also want to hear more about your two friends so I can lead the investigation to find 'em. My partner should be returning to town soon, and we can get started. Let me buy you a drink, and we can discuss it."

"Sure." Roman watched after the blond-haired deputy for a moment before he began to follow after him at a bit of a slower pace back into town. He glanced over his shoulder once more, getting yet another look at the swaying fields of wheatgrass and the mountains that stood tall and proud behind the farmlands. He only hoped that he could have the chance to check that area out more to help search for Seth and Dean, but he also knew that it was something he wouldn't be able to do alone.

The single bar the place had to offer wasn't too far from the sheriff's station, and Jim pushed open the door and stepped inside with the other man close behind. Roman looked around curiously, seeing that the small place was already full of people drinking and laughing loudly. There was a pool table in one corner and a dart board on the opposite wall, both filled with people, and music was blaring from a stereo hooked up on the four corners of the ceiling.

Jim led him past a few tables in the center of the room, which were all occupied, until he reached the bar itself. He leaned forward on the counter with a smile directed toward the back of the bartender who had long, blonde hair tied back behind her head. "Two cold ones, Sis!"

Roman watched, not too entirely surprised, as Isabella turned around to face the deputy with a small smile of her own. "Sure thing, Jim!" she said cheerfully. Her light gaze faltered slightly when it passed over Roman, but she quickly filled two mugs with frothing amber beer and set them on the counter. "Let me know if there's anything else I can get for you boys!"

"Will do, Izzy! You're the best!" Jim sat on a stool in front of the bar and gestured for the other man to do the same, raising his mug in the air in the direction of his sister before holding it out toward Roman. "Cheers!"

Chuckling quietly as he sat down too, Roman raised his own mug and lightly clinked it against the deputy's before they both took a sip of their drinks. It was a bit stronger than he had expected, and he took a quick breath as he set his mug back down on the counter.

"Not much of a drinker, huh?" Jim asked with a laugh of his own.

"I drink on occasion," Roman answered with a small smile. "Mainly just when I'm out with friends and coworkers. I don't like to drink around my daughter."

Jim nodded. "I don't blame you, man, not at all!" he told him. "If I had kids of my own, I wouldn't want to do that either..."

Roman simply smiled again before taking another small, cautious sip of his beer. His gaze landed on Isabella as she wiped down part of the counter before tending to a couple more customers who approached the bar. Jim leaned a bit closer to him.

"So, from what the sheriff told me, you really didn't have much to go on in this case involving your friends," he stated. "Is there anything you can tell me that'll help even a little?"

"Well, as I told him, we didn't even think there were any cars under the overpass when we pulled onto the side road," Roman muttered with a sigh, his hand tightening around his mug slightly. "It came out of nowhere. Tried to blind us with its headlights, it seemed, before it hit us. And when I woke up this morning, there was no one around. They were already gone..."

Jim nodded thoughtfully as he took this information in while he sipped his beer. "I know you don't really know this area too well, but do you have any possible idea where they could have been taken?" he pressed. "Anything will help at this point."

Roman shook his head. "How could I? The last thing I remember is being forced off the road and crashing into the side of the bridge. They... they were probably taken when I was unconscious. There was nothing I could do... I don't know why I was left here while they were taken, but..." He took a deep breath before raising his mug to his lips and taking another slightly larger sip of his drink. "I know they're not in town anywhere, but that's about all I can tell you."

"What makes you say that?" Jim wondered carefully, a glint appearing in his light eyes that he couldn't quite read.

"Because of all the suspicious looks that I'm getting everywhere I go," Roman explained with a slight smirk. "I think I would have heard something if they were here as well."

Jim slowly took another drink of his beer before setting the mug back down on the counter. "Well, as I said earlier, my partner is out in the farmlands investigating some disturbances," he said. "He'll be able to tell me if he notices anything out there. If not, I suppose we'll check the lower mountain regions."

Roman nodded once. That was exactly the area where he knew he needed to look for them. "Keep me informed," he replied.

"I will," Jim agreed as his typical smile returned to his face. "So, do you have a picture of your friends or something that you can show me?"

"Yeah." Roman pulled his wallet out of the front pocket of his jeans and slipped out the picture of him, Seth, and Dean that he had given to Sheriff Perry and held it out to him.

Jim took the picture and looked it over for a moment. "Ah, yeah, I saw the sheriff using this picture to make signs earlier," he muttered. "Which one's which?"

"This is Seth. We were celebrating his birthday here." Roman pointed to the man on the left with two-toned hair. "And this is Dean." He gestured to the man who was sitting on the right hand side of the photo, smirking at the camera.

"Your friends seem pretty interesting," Jim commented as he handed the picture back. "You've known them for a long time?"

"Feels like a lot longer than it actually has been." Roman chuckled, taking another sip of his beer after he put the photograph away in its proper place. "I met them both in a developmental company for the one we work for now. You get to know people the more you see and work with them, you know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Jim took a long sip of his beer before he glanced over his shoulder when his name was called by a few guys standing around the pool table. "Well, don't worry. We'll find your two friends, and this whole thing will be cleared up in no time so you can be on your way," he continued when he turned back to the other man. "But for now, a couple of those guys owe me money, so I've gotta go clear that up over a game. It was good talking to you some more, and thank you for helping me with this case."

"Sure, you're..." But Roman didn't get a chance to finish as the deputy stood from his stool and crossed the crowded room, laughing as he joined the other men around the pool table. He sighed quietly to himself as he turned back to face the bar, casting his dark eyes down to the mug he held and swirling the amber liquid around a little. This entire situation would have been so much easier if only his cell phone worked. He could have attempted to call Seth or Dean, or he could have called the company to let them know why they weren't there for the show that night and try to get some more help than he was already being given. He could have called his fiancée and little girl.

He took another small sip of the beer before setting the mug down on the counter and slowly releasing his hold on it. The one thing he had learned from his discussions with both Sheriff Perry and Deputy Richards was that it seemed like people were more aware of what was going on and possibly where his friends were than they were letting on. It was a thought that unnerved him.

"Izzy, honey, you're shift's over now. Head on home."

Roman glanced up curiously at the voice that came from a bit down the counter, seeing that an older woman with her graying hair tied up in a tight bun behind her head had stepped out of a door behind the bar that led to a back room before she disappeared inside once again. Isabella let out a small breath as she untied the black apron from around her and hung it up on a hook with a few others behind her before she bent down and picked up a red backpack which was somewhat unzipped from behind the counter.

He lowered his gaze when she walked out from behind the bar, taking another sip of his beer. But then, Roman glanced up with surprise again when Isabella approached him and set her hand lightly on his shoulder.

"I want to talk to you," she muttered.

"Um, yeah, sure." Roman decided to leave his beer where it was as he rose to his feet and followed her across the bar. He glanced at where Jim was still shooting pool with the guys who had called him over, all laughing when someone missed a shot, as he tossed the empty bag of chips in a garbage can before he stepped outside into the night. He immediately spotted Isabella pacing in front of the building, stopping only when the door shut behind him.

"I thought that you would have left by now," she said when he approached.

Roman raised an eyebrow. "And how do you expect me to do that?" he countered. "My rental car was wrecked, and I haven't found my friends yet."

Isabella sighed. "I told you already, Roman, they're as good as dead..."

"No." Roman shook his head, his jaw setting tightly. "I refuse to believe that. I can't just leave here when there's still a chance that I can find them."

"How? With the police?" Isabella chuckled quietly as she situated her backpack to a more comfortable position on her shoulder. She turned to leave, but she stopped when Roman lightly grabbed her arm.

"You know what's going on here, don't you?" he asked quietly when she glanced back at him. "You know where they are... don't you?"

Isabella's gaze faltered. "No, I don't know where they are," she answered, her voice no louder than his was. "If I did, I would tell you so you could just get the hell out of here before..."

"Before what?" Roman prompted when her sentence trailed off. "What's going to happen to them?"

However, Isabella just shook her head as she pulled her arm out of his loose grasp. "I've already said too much," she muttered. "And you have to be more careful, Roman. You're asking too many questions, and you're revealing that you already know more than you should."

Roman gazed at her with confusion. How could he know too much when he didn't know anything about what was going on or where Seth and Dean could have been? Unless... "They're out in the farms, aren't they?" he pressed. "That's what the disturbance is that's being investigated, isn't it?"

Isabella didn't say a word, but the hesitant look that crossed her face was all the confirmation that he needed. "I need to get out there," he continued, looking out in the direction that he knew the farms were in. "I need to go find them as soon as possible..."

"You won't be able to," Isabella said. "By now, your friends could be anywhere from where they were being kept, if they're not dead already. And you don't know the area. How are you going to find them without help?" She sighed. "If I were you, Roman, I would just go before it's too late for you as well. Just go home to your family."

Roman gazed at her for a long moment, unsure of what to say since he knew he couldn't argue with her. How could he expect to help Seth and Dean if he couldn't even find his own way? And though being certain that he could go home to the two most important girls in his life sounded ideal, he also knew that he couldn't just leave his two friends behind without even trying to do something for them.

Before either of them could say anything more, however, they both quickly turned when the door of the bar behind them opened with a _crash_, watching as a couple of drunk men walked out. They were all talking with raised voices before laughing loudly when one of them nearly stumbled. Isabella let out a quiet sigh of relief as she started to turn around, but she paused when a thick, heavy book that had been leaning out of her backpack fell and hit the hard ground with a loud _thud_.

The sudden sound was startling, and Roman quickly looked away from the men as they staggered away from the bar before his dark eyes landed on the book. Isabella quickly began to bend over to reach for it, but he was just a little closer and reached it first, picking it up and looking over the cover curiously.

"Algebra?" he read before moving his gaze up to her with sudden realization. "How old are you exactly?"

Isabella looked away, casting her eyes to the ground. "Seventeen."

"Seventeen?" Roman repeated with disbelief, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern. "How are you working in a bar at your age?"

"Please, if you haven't noticed already, things are different around here." Isabella reached forward and grabbed the thick textbook from his loose grasp, sliding her backpack off her shoulder and slipping it back inside before assuring that it was closed completely. "They don't enforce the drinking age. I know fourteen-year-olds who are drinking regularly." She sighed as she slid her backpack back on her shoulder. "As for how I got this job, I needed something to support myself to finish school. And this was all that was available."

Roman shook his head slightly. "But doesn't this conflict with your schooling?" he pressed. "To be out this late on a school night can't be good for you or for your son."

Isabella turned and began walking down the road in the direction of where the houses in the town were set aside, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that he was following her. "I do what I have to for him, Roman," she said quietly. "I'm sure you can understand that."

"I can," Roman agreed, a small smile appearing on his face when he thought of his own daughter. But then, the look faltered. "Where is Jackson when you're at school and here?"

"My brother's wife watches him," Isabella explained. "They don't have any kids of their own, so she always offers."

"You don't have a husband?" Roman noticed the dark look that crossed her face, and he quickly continued, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by that. It's just what I've been told is that around here..."

"Typically you're married before you have children, yes." Isabella sighed as she looked up at him, and his gaze saddened when he saw the uncertain look in her eyes. "But things happen sometimes, Roman. Things that you can't control. But... I have Jackson, and that's all that matters. Even when bad things happen, you don't have to look too far to find the good that's there, too."

Roman watched her carefully, still concerned. Clearly something had happened to her, but since she wasn't willing to offer any more information, he wasn't going to push her. "As long as you and Jackson are both happy and healthy," he muttered. "How's he doing with his cough?"

Isabella smiled slightly. "He was given some medicine that's helped quite a bit," she said. "He's slowly returning to his usual happy self. Thanks for asking."

When Roman simply nodded, she let out a quiet breath and slowed to a stop. The older man did the same next to her, turning to her with confusion. "Something wrong?" he wondered.

"No." Isabella shook her head slightly as she glanced around her. "Look, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but there's one phone in this town that connects to outside lines. You can call your own family or whoever else you need to so you can let them know what's going on, and... and that you'll be leaving after you look for your friends."

Roman's eyes widened slightly as his heart lifted. He could reach his boss, his fiancée, and his little girl after all... "Where is it?" he asked.

"In the sheriff's office," Isabella answered quietly, and the hope Roman had suddenly diminished slightly. "He leaves in about twenty minutes to go home for a couple hours before he goes back to the station. You'll have time then."

A small smile appeared on his face as Roman reached forward and set a hand on her arm. "Thank you, Isabella," he told her. "This really means a lot. I don't know how I can thank you."

"Just don't get caught." Isabella chuckled. "And please, just call me Izzy. Everyone else does, and I always hated my full name..."

Roman nodded slightly. "All right, then, Izzy. Thank you for helping me."

Isabella smiled before she set a hand on his arm as well as he took a step away from her. "I mean it, though, Roman. You have to be really careful," she warned quietly. "I mean, the law enforcement here is working on your case, but... it might not hurt to have extra help."

A bit unnerved by her words, Roman felt his stomach tighten a bit. "Izzy..." he began, but his sentence trailed off when she turned and walked down the dark road away from him, not looking back.

**Author's Note**: All righty, that's it for that one! More questions about this town are popping up, and now Seth and Dean are once again on their own. We'll have to keep going to see how that turns out! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing associated with the WWE. Just any OCs!

**Summary**: After a car accident leaves them stranded in the middle of nowhere, the members of the Shield find themselves wrapped up in a deadly game where no one can be trusted but each other. But there is one catch– the game is intended for only one winner, and to lose is to die.

**Author's Note**: Hey, guys! Sorry for the bit of a wait, but thank you for your reviews! I really appreciate them :) Onto the next chapter! Now that Dean and Seth have escaped and Roman is getting some direction to try to find them, what's in store for our Hounds of Justice? We'll see! Enjoy!

_Chapter 5_

There were only three things that he could hear distinctly– the crunching of the leaves and grass beneath his feet, his labored breathing mingling with the ragged breaths of the man beside him, and his heart pounding loudly in his ears, which nearly blocked out all other sounds.

Dean looked around anxiously as he continued to make his way through the dark, dense trees, supporting Seth as they ventured forward. Night had fallen, making their already difficult journey that much more difficult. They already had no idea where they were going, and the heavy darkness pressing in around them almost made them feel as though they could be going in circles without even knowing it. The one good thing about their situation, at least for the time being, was that no one else was coming after them. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that once the deputy he had killed was discovered, they would no longer have that particular luxury.

He slowed to a stop, closing his eyes for a brief moment. The pulsating pain had returned to his head, no doubt aggravated by the hard hit to the jaw with the gun that he had taken from the dark-haired officer, and it was making it harder for him to think and try to navigate their way through the unknown countryside. It was something that he definitely didn't need. Beside him, Seth was leaning more on him for support, his hand resting over his injured ribs as he hunched over slightly. Neither of them moved for a long moment, and Dean looked around them as he tried to remain calm in order to figure out which way they should go next.

Finally, Seth raised his head slightly as he met his friend's gaze. "Dean..." he muttered.

"What?" Dean continued to look around, but all of the trees were beginning to look the same as the shadows seemed to continually creep closer.

Seth took as deep of a breath as he could, which still caused pain to shoot through his torso. "I... I have to stop..." he said, his tone faltering. "I can't..."

Dean's gaze flickered nervously as he looked at the other man, seeing that his face was ashen and coated with a layer of sweat. "Seth... I know it's hard, but we can't stop," he replied, quickly looking toward a couple trees closer to them when he heard the quiet _snap_ of a twig. "There could be anyone after us at any time, man... We have to keep going."

"But we... don't know where we're... going..." Seth gave him a small smile before a pained look crossed his face as he closed his eyes tightly, hunching forward slightly. "Dean, I can't..."

"Shit..." Dean sighed heavily. "Okay. Here's what we'll do. I'll let you sit for three minutes. Three. While you do that, I'm going to take a look around a little more. But don't complain to me when you have to stand up again."

Seth gave a whisper of a chuckle, causing him to wince in pain, before the other man helped him over to the nearest tree and slowly and carefully lowered him into a sitting position against the trunk behind him. "Now, I'll be back in three minutes," Dean reminded him. "I'm not going far. Just to figure out which way we should go."

"Okay..." Seth closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree, attempting to catch his breath.

Dean gazed at him with concern for a short moment before he straightened up and turned away from the other man as he made his way through the dark trees. He wished he could have let Seth sit for a longer period of time since he was worried about the state of his ribs, but with the constant threat of someone else being after them at any moment, it was a chance he couldn't afford to take. He would much rather find a safer location than in the middle of the woods for him to rest and recover slightly before they continued.

As he started to make his way up a slight hill, Dean mumbled curses under his breath as he ran his hand over his throbbing jaw. With his other, he ran a finger over the gun he had taken from the deputy that was sitting securely on his belt, relieved that he had it on him. It was something he didn't necessarily want to use, but it was something that he still felt better having on him in case it was needed. At least they had something to defend themselves with.

Once he reached the top of the hill, Dean found himself facing a vast clearing with a line of trees on one side and a much steeper hill on the other. Making up his mind about how to proceed from there, he made his way back down the slight incline to where the other man was waiting for him. His eyes widened slightly when he saw that Seth was slouched over more than he had been when he left, his head dropping forward onto his chest, and he hurried over and dropped down to one knee next to him, setting a hand on his shoulder as he lightly shook him.

"Seth! Are you okay?"

A long moment passed before Seth slowly began to raise his head, hissing with pain as he attempted to straighten up a bit. He met his friend's gaze, and aside from his face being a bit paler, his eyes were once again brighter than they should have been. "I think... that was more around... four minutes..." he muttered, giving him a weak smile.

Dean chuckled quietly. "Well, at least your humor hasn't been affected by all of this," he said. "But okay, listen up. Just up this small hill here is a clearing. Since no one's after us at the moment, I think that'd be our best bet. That way, we can at least get a little better idea of where we're at." He paused. "You up for it?"

Seth nodded. "If we don't go now... we probably never will..."

"Valid point." Dean sighed as he lightly grabbed Seth's arm and wrapped it around his neck, winding his other arm around his waist before he started to help him to his feet. He briefly paused when a near silent but pain-filled sound broke through the other man's lips before straightening up completely. Seth leaned heavily against him, waiting until the pain in his ribs died down a bit before he straightened up a little more and nodded.

"Let's go, and... see what we can," he told him.

Dean smiled in return as he made sure that his hold on his friend was secure before he began walking up the slight hill again, Seth managing to keep in pace beside him. It was a bit harder for him to make it up the incline even though they were going at a slower pace, and after he slipped a couple times, held up only by Dean's supporting arms, the two men finally made it up the hill. The rough trek had caused his torso excruciating pain, and Seth had to pause for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. Dean tightened his arms around him slightly as he began to walk forward into the clearing, keeping a sharp look out for anywhere they could use as a suitable place to rest. Seth's footsteps were starting to slow beside him, causing him to stumble a little as he struggled to keep up. The other man slowed his pace slightly as well in order to keep his friend from falling behind, but he knew he couldn't slow it too much.

Moonlight soon began to sneak out from behind the clouds in the night sky as they continued to make their way across the clearing, casting three thin shadows over the vast lawn. Dean glanced upward at the tall, broad hill beside them, his eyes traveling up the dirt and withered grass to see that there were three tall crosses that stood at the top. They were each made of wood, and the one in the center stood a bit taller than the two on either side of it and was a few shades darker. He could understand the significance, though it was one that he had never put much stock in, but it was a sight that unsettled him now.

Three crosses... He just hoped that it wasn't an omen of things to come for them.

"Dean..."

The forced, quiet voice brought him out of his thoughts, and Dean tore his gaze away from the crosses and turned his attention to Seth. "Yeah?"

Seth pointed to the edge of the clearing off to their left. "There's a... building over there..." he muttered.

Dean followed his gaze, surprised to see a one-story white building with a brown slanted roof and trim and a tall, pointed steeple sitting in a clump of trees. A smaller building, which resembled a house, was painted with the same colors and connected to the larger one. He was surprised to see a building so far out in the middle of nowhere.

"It's a church," he added quietly. He glanced at the other man. "How much further can you go for now?" He didn't want to even think about stopping for a rest there unless they absolutely had to.

Seth appeared thoughtful for a moment before he shook his head slightly. "Not much..." he admitted quietly. "Getting harder to... to breathe..."

Dean let out a resigned breath as he glanced back at the church. That wasn't a good sign. "Well, it's as safe a place as any, I guess," he said, mainly to himself. "All right. We'll rest there for a little while. But not for too long. Can't afford to take any chances..."

Seth nodded his agreement, and Dean began to make his way across the clearing, leading his friend along behind him. As they drew closer to the church, they noticed that it appeared as though they were approaching the building from the back, which was fine with Dean. Hopefully, they wouldn't be as noticeable that way.

However, he wasn't too surprised to find that the door was still locked, and Dean helped Seth to lean against the wall next to him before he slipped the small knife he had taken from the deputy out of the pocket of his jeans and began to jiggle the lock. The other man watched him for a moment before he set his hand over his pulsating ribs and closed his eyes. Just like back when they had been kept in the small shed, he was beginning to feel very tired, and he wasn't sure how long he could keep going.

He opened his eyes again when he heard a quiet triumphant noise from Dean, watching as his friend pulled the door open and put the pocketknife away. "Come on, man, let's get inside," he muttered, and Seth allowed him to take his arm again and help him into the building.

It was dark inside the sanctuary after the door was shut behind them, lit only by the moonlight that was filtering in through the tall windows that stood high on all four walls. Dean cautiously made his way forward, his eyes scanning the vast room intently. There were eight rows of pews divided down the center by an aisle that led up to the altar, which only consisted of a golden cross and a few candles around it. It was eerie to say the least, but since he could tell that the other man could hardly stand, he knew it was the best choice they could have made.

"Here..." Dean led Seth over to the nearest cushioned pew and carefully sat him down before moving his hands to his shoulders to guide him to stretch out. "Slowly, man, slowly..."

Seth nodded, his face paling slightly as his friend continued to help lower him down. His ribs flared with pain any way he moved his body, but he soon felt his back and head resting against the soft cushion, and he closed his eyes tightly as he let out the breath that he had been holding. Dean crouched down next to the pew, ensuring that Seth was lying as comfortably as possible, before he closed his own eyes for a long moment. The other man was in need of medical attention, that was certain, and he knew it wasn't good for his condition to keep moving around so much. But for the time being, they had no other choice since if they didn't keep moving, they could wind up much worse.

"We'll get you some help soon, Seth," he said quietly as he opened his eyes again. "Just hang in there, okay?"

However, he received no answer, and Dean's brow furrowed with concern when he realized that the other man had passed out. "Fuck..." He set his hand on Seth's forehead, feeling that his skin was clammy to the touch and that his face was covered in a cold sweat.

Knowing there wasn't too much that could be done for him in the present situation aside from allowing him to rest, Dean slowly rose to his feet and looked around the sanctuary a little more. His gaze landed on the altar again, pausing on the golden cross that shone softly in the moonlight before he crossed the room to the front door to glance outside. There was a small gravel parking lot right in front of the door with a wide path leading toward what must have been a road of some sort, and there was a wide, sparkling pond sitting beside it that was fed by a river that wound out of sight through the trees.

A quiet footstep shortly followed by a _click_ was then heard from behind him, and Dean quickly drew his gun and ensured it was loaded as he turned around and raised the weapon. Standing by the altar was an older man with white hair wearing a black robe.

In his hands was a shotgun that was aimed in his direction.

* * *

Roman stared up at the dark ceiling of his motel room, sighing as he passed a hand over his face and briefly closed his eyes. Now that he was alone with his thoughts, the stitches in his forehead were actually itching like the nurse had warned him about, and though his other facial injuries had been tended, his head was still pounding mercilessly. Throbbing in time with his temples was his sternum and rib area. Slightly concerned, he slowly sat up on the dark sheets of the bed, brushing the long strands of his black hair out of his face before he pushed himself to his feet and crossed the small room to the mirror that was hanging on the wall adjacent to the door to get a good look at his reflection.

The dark bruises that were on his cheek and forehead were still there as they always had been, his split bottom lip was still a bit swollen, and there was still some faint redness around the stitches he had gotten. Roman sighed quietly and lifted his shirt a bit, seeing that there were hints of another dark bruise that ran diagonally across his torso, and he realized that it must have been from the restraining seatbelt when the other car had forced them off the road.

He let out another quiet breath as he lowered his shirt again and sat down on the thin mattress of his bed. He wanted to be anywhere else but in this small motel room alone with the thoughts that were racing through his mind and the pulsating pain that was settling in his body. Where he wanted to be was a place he knew he would have trouble navigating on his own, but it was one where he knew he had to be if he wanted to find Seth and Dean. He closed his eyes. Maybe for now, he could distract himself by checking out Sheriff Perry's office to see if he could get the luggage bags that hadn't been brought to him yet and to see about using the phone that would connect him to the outside world. That way, he would feel like he was at least accomplishing something.

Then, there was a quiet knock on his door. Roman slowly looked up, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room once again. He unlocked the door before pulling it open, his brow furrowing further when he saw who was standing in the dim light from the nearby street lamp.

"Izzy?"

"Have you gone to the sheriff's office yet?" Isabella asked quietly as she glanced around nervously.

Roman shook his head as he raised an eyebrow. "Not yet," he answered, looking around a little himself. "I was just thinking of going..." He sighed. "Is everything okay?"

Isabella appeared startled for a moment before she smiled. "Yeah, everything's fine," she assured him. "It's just... I'm not exactly sure how this would look to anyone else..." She chuckled quietly at the confused look that crossed the older man's face before she reached out and took his arm. "I just wanted to say that it's a good thing you waited. Perry just left. I'm not sure why he was there so late, but he'll still be gone for a couple hours or so. If you want to use that phone, now's your chance."

"Thanks for..." Roman began, but he didn't get a chance to finish as Isabella started to pull him out of the room. He shut the door behind them before he followed her down the couple stairs that led up to the motel and hurried after her down the road that would bring them to their destination.

The sheriff's station was dark when they approached it, and Isabella pulled a set of keys out of her back pocket. "My brother gave me an extra set," she explained when she noticed the arched eyebrow that her companion was regarding her with. "Comes in handy sometimes."

"I can imagine." Roman watched as the seventeen-year-old found the right key and unlocked the front door, glancing up and down the street before she pushed it open. He followed her inside the lobby, glancing back at her when she locked it again behind them before they crossed the small room to where the sheriff's office was.

Isabella sighed as she checked the keys on the small ring. "I'm not sure if I have the one to his office..." she muttered as she began to try each of them. "No..."

Roman passed a hand over his face. He was so close to being able to reach the people he wanted to on the outside, but now, he couldn't even get into the office that would enable him to do so. Then, he glanced at his younger companion curiously when she pulled a bobby pin out of her long blonde hair and began to jiggle the lock.

"This is another good reason to have an older brother who's a police officer." Isabella smiled up at him when a faint _click_ was heard, and she straightened up and put the pin back in her hair before she pushed the door open.

"Won't Perry be suspicious when he comes back and finds his door unlocked?" Roman asked, stepping inside the office after her.

"Unlikely," Isabella answered quietly, glancing around nervously. "He can be quite forgetful. It wouldn't be the first time that he's forgotten to lock his door when he leaves to go home for a little while." She quickly made her way over to the desk, and Roman followed her when she gestured to the phone that was sitting there. "This connects to outside lines. Just dial nine first. I'll keep an eye out in case anyone comes back."

Roman smiled as he briefly set his hand on her shoulder before he walked behind the desk. Isabella returned the look before she turned and stepped outside of the office, closing the door behind her to grant him some privacy. With a quiet sigh, Roman slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and went through his contacts until he reached the number for WWE headquarters, and though it was a bit more difficult to read due to the crack that nearly split the screen in two, he picked up the receiver and hit nine before dialing the number. He brought the phone to his ear and waited, and when prompted, he punched in the extension for John Laurinaitis. Since it was late, he was met with his answering machine as he had expected, and he took a deep breath when he heard the familiar _beep_.

"John, it's Roman," he said, trying to keep his tone calm as he paced as far as the phone's cord would let him. "Look, I know Dean, Seth, or I should have called sooner, but we didn't have the chance. We were involved in this car accident last night, and we're stranded in pretty much the middle of nowhere in southern West Virginia. It's off the map, from what I've been told. We have no cell phone service, so this is the only way I can call out. I don't know if you can call this line, so when I get another chance, I'll call you back. Seth and Dean aren't with me, and I don't know what kind of condition they're in, but when they're found, we'll try to leave." He sighed. "There's something really strange going on here. If you don't hear from me again in the next couple days, then send–!"

However, Roman stopped when he heard a quiet _click_ before the dreaded sound of the dial tone echoed in his ears. They had been disconnected. "Shit..." he murmured before he hung up, waiting for a moment before picking up the receiver again. He had only begun to redial Laurinaitis' number when the door to the sheriff's office opened as Isabella stepped inside, her eyes wide.

"My brother's coming!" she said anxiously, shutting and locking the door behind her.

Roman immediately set down the receiver and slipped his cell phone in his pocket before she grabbed his arm and pulled him along with her to the small storage closet and opened the door. With the shelves of paperwork and other day-to-day items that were inside, he was unsure if they would both fit, but he didn't have a chance to voice his doubts as Isabella shoved him inside first before squeezing in herself and shutting the door behind them. They were uncomfortably close together, but Roman wasn't about to offer a complaint when he heard a key in the lock of the door before it opened as Jim stepped inside. He held his breath as Isabella, who was pressed up against his side, did the same, and they both listened intently to the officer's conversation.

"I'm about to head out there now. Meet me in front of the station," Jim was saying. "I'll bring some of these posters with me, so that should help."

There was a quiet _crackle_ and a distorted electronic voice that they couldn't quite hear that came as a response, and Roman realized that he must have been talking to another officer through his walkie-talkie. "No, I haven't heard a word from Tom, which is pretty concerning," Jim continued. "Something must have happened."

Another _crackle_ and distorted voice.

"No. Again, if those outsiders were dead, then we would have heard back from him already, and we wouldn't have to be doing this right now." Jim was starting to sound frustrated. He listened to the response before he sighed. "I don't know how they could have gotten away... I mean, I hit them pretty damn hard last night..."

Roman's stomach tightened painfully as dread swarmed through him, Isabella closing her eyes from beside him. It was _Jim_ who had crashed into their car and forced them off the road?

There was another quiet _crackle_ as the response came through. "Look, I don't know about the other two," Jim told whoever was on the other end. "But at least we have one right here in town... He won't be too hard to find at that motel." Another _crackle_. "Yeah, I know! God damn it... Look, just meet me in front of the station. We'll head out there and clear this up." And with that, Jim opened the door of the sheriff's office and slammed it shut again behind him.

After waiting for a moment just to make sure that he was really gone, Isabella let out the breath that she had been holding as she pushed open the closet door and stepped out of the closet. Roman lingered behind, his mind frantically trying to process everything that he had just heard before he slowly followed after her. "Okay, Roman, we should really get out of here..." the seventeen-year-old began nervously, but she was cut off by her older companion reaching out and grabbing her arm, turning her to face him.

"You _knew_ about your brother forcing us off the road last night?!" Roman demanded angrily.

Isabella sighed, lowering her gaze from his. "Look, I know you're angry, and you deserve to be," she muttered. "But–!"

"_No_!" Roman shook her slightly as his voice rose a bit. "Tell me what the fuck is going on here! Where are my friends? What's happening to us?!"

A thin line of tears formed in Isabella's eyes. "I... I'll tell you, Roman," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I promise. But finish making your calls first... We don't have much time..."

Roman stared at her for a long moment, his breath coming forcefully, before he let out a sigh and looked away from her, slowly releasing his hold on her arm. Isabella rubbed the spot that he had grabbed as he turned and approached the desk again, picking up the phone and hitting nine before he dialed a number that he knew by heart. It rang four times before the answering machine picked up, and he heard his own voice.

_"You've reached the Reigns residence. Leave your name and number, and we'll get back to you as soon as we can."_

"Honey, it's me," Roman muttered after he took a deep breath. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm okay, though you might not hear from me for a few days. Seth, Dean, and I are stranded in West Virginia still, and we have no cell service. This is the only way I can reach you. So, I just had to say that..." His sentence trailed off when something that Jim must have been looking through on the sheriff's desk caught his eye.

Then, he heard a quiet _click_ on the other end, but instead of being met with a dial tone as he had been before, he heard a voice that he had been wanting to hear since the accident.

_"Roman? I'm sorry I didn't get to the phone sooner... But what's going on? Where are you? John was calling all afternoon asking about you, Seth, and Dean..."_

It was his fiancée. Roman let out a relieved breath as a small smile appeared on his face despite the situation. It was simply good to hear her voice, despite how tired she sounded. "It's a long story, one that I don't have time to completely go into now," he told her. "But listen, I need you to call John tomorrow and make sure that he got my message. If you don't hear from me in a couple days, get the police involved or do whatever you have to do."

There was a long moment of silence on the other end. _"Roman, what the hell is going on? You're scaring me, babe..."_

Roman hesitated slightly on his next words. "Yeah, I'm a bit on the scared side myself," he muttered, picking up one of the posters that Sheriff Perry had made with the picture of him and his friends that he had given him as he tried to read it in the faint hints of moonlight filtering into the room. "All I know is that we're stuck in southern West Virginia in a place that's not on the map. I have to find Seth and Dean, and–!" Once more, he abruptly stopped as he was finally able to make out the words that had been scrawled on the paper, and his eyes widened in horror.

There was a startled pause on the other end. _"They're not with you? Where are they?"_

Though he knew she wouldn't see the action, Roman sighed as he shook his head slightly. "Listen to me... I love you," he nearly whispered. "Just... just know that, okay? And tell our little girl that, too..."

_"I... I love you, too..." _There was a brief pause. _"But what's going on? Are you guys all right? Roman? Roman!"_

However, Roman didn't say anything more as he slowly hung up the phone and ended the call, a thin line of tears in his dark eyes. He cast his gaze down to the poster he held, reading over the words underneath the picture one more time.

_Wanted! Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns  
Reward! Alive: $500. Dead: $1,500  
Outsiders should be considered extremely dangerous. If seen, contact Sheriff Perry, or approach at your own risk. If killed, contact Sheriff Perry immediately for the reward money. Happy and safe hunting._

**Author's Note**: All right, that's it for that one! Dean and Seth are in a bit of a jam again, and Roman's uncovering some disturbing secrets about this little town. How will they escape? Well, we'll have to keep going to find out! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing associated with the WWE. Just any OCs!

**Summary**: After a car accident leaves them stranded in the middle of nowhere, the members of the Shield find themselves wrapped up in a deadly game where no one can be trusted but each other. But there is one catch– the game is intended for only one winner, and to lose is to die.

**Author's Note**: Hey, guys! Sorry for the bit of a delay again. But thank you for all of your reviews and patience! I really appreciate all of them, and I'm glad that you're enjoying this story so much! Well, Dean and Seth are in a jam, and Roman's learning some disturbing things about this town. How will they get out of this? We'll find out! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter too! :)

_Chapter 6_

Dean's eyes narrowed as he stared down the older man who had entered the sanctuary, his own weapon remaining level with him. "Lower it!" he demanded, keeping his hands and tone steady and confident. "I'll fire, I don't care..."

A long moment passed before the man's lined face softened, and he nodded once as he lowered the shotgun and set it down on the floor in front of the altar before he raised his hands in a placating manner. Dean, however, kept his handgun raised and his eyes only on the new arrival.

"I mean you no harm," the former said, his voice level and containing a somewhat soothing tone. "I only wanted to see who was entering my sanctuary at this late hour. You cannot be too careful around here. But this is a place of joy, not of violence."

Dean gazed at him carefully for a moment longer before he slowly started to lower his gun. The priest gave him a warm smile before he turned to face the altar, pausing and bowing his head for a long moment before he approached. He picked up a box of matches from in front of the golden cross, struck it, and lit all four candles that surrounded it.

"What is your name?" he asked kindly, putting out the match and setting it on the table before turning to face him once more.

A brief moment passed before the younger man sighed. "It's Dean."

The priest smiled once more. "The pleasure is mine," he muttered. "You may call me Peter."

Dean curtly nodded before he looked away, trying to find anything else to look at aside from the older man. Peter regarded him with a look of understanding before his eyes widened with concern when they landed on Seth. "What is wrong with your friend?"

At the sudden question, Dean quickly looked up in time to see Peter leaving the altar as he made his way toward the pew Seth was lying on. He immediately raised his gun. "Don't touch him!"

Peter paused, once again raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I am only going to check on his condition, Dean," he told him calmly, taking a couple more small steps toward Seth. "I mean your friend no harm either."

Dean watched the older man carefully as he reached the pew and knelt in front of it before he slowly made his way over as well, keeping a tight hold on the gun in his hand. He stopped and watched as Peter reached out and lightly set a hand on Seth's pale cheek before placing his other on his arm. "What happened?" he asked quietly before he turned his gaze to Dean.

"Car accident," Dean explained cautiously. "He has at least one broken rib, probably more now."

A flicker of realization appeared in Peter's light eyes then. "So, you are two of the men who I have been hearing reports about," he muttered. He paused when Dean tightened his hand around the gun a bit more before he smiled. "Fear not, I will not report your whereabouts. This is a safe place, a sacred place. You have nothing to worry about while you are here, for you are protected while in this house. I will watch out for you."

Dean gazed at him for a moment before a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "No offense, but I've never put much confidence in fathers," he replied. "Of any sort."

A sad look passed over Peter's face as he slowly pushed himself to his feet to face the younger man. "You have a lot of anger in you, Dean," he said softly. "I can help you. That is one of the reasons I am here, to give my help to those who are in need of it. Without judgement."

"I don't need any help." Dean looked away from the priest. "Especially from someone I don't even know."

Peter gazed at him for a long moment. "It's not healthy to keep that kind of emotion inside of you," he continued quietly. "It eats away at your soul." He paused when the younger man chuckled quietly in a dismissive way. "This is something that stems from your childhood... You say you don't put much faith in fathers. Perhaps you've had problems with your own–!"

Dean quickly turned to look at him, a dark look passing over his face. "Don't you _dare_ even try to understand me!" he nearly whispered. "You don't know anything about me! You don't know what it's like!" He turned and walked away from the other man, crossing the room as quickly as he could until he came to a stop in front of the window beside the front door. He gazed out at the sparkling pond that sat before the church, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool pane. He heard footsteps approaching him, but he didn't turn to look.

"I do not mean to pressure you, Dean," Peter muttered. "But this sort of anger–!"

"My father left, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Huh?" Dean snapped angrily as he opened his eyes and turned back to the older man. "He just up and left us with no explanation. And my mother? She wasn't much better since she spent most of her time shooting herself up with heroin! All I could do was watch and do everything for myself since she sure as hell wasn't going to do a damn thing!" He paused, shaking his head slightly as he looked away again and passed his free hand through his light hair, tightening his hold on the firearm in his hand once more.

Peter's gaze saddened. "So you have always felt alone." He reached out and lightly set a hand on Dean's shoulder, feeling him tense up a little. "You are not alone here, Dean. I promise you that."

Dean sighed as he moved out from under the priest's light hold. "Look, I wouldn't even have stopped here, but we had no other choice because of my friend's health," he told him. "We can't really afford to stay long, but I needed a place for him to recover a little. All this..." He paused and gestured around the sanctuary with the gun he still held. "It hasn't done anything for me."

A look of understanding passed over Peter's face as he nodded, giving the younger man another warm smile. "Your friend is safe here, as are you," he assured him. "You can rest in my home for as long as you need to. But, Dean." His smile broadened slightly, though it had a slightly somber feel to it. "You may feel as though that this has turned its back on you. But you are still searching for some sort of answer, I can tell."

Dean looked away from the priest's face, unable to hold eye contact. A moment passed before he smirked slightly at his own reflection. "Look, I'm not here for any of that, okay? I'm just here so my friend gets the chance to rest up a bit. That's it."

Peter nodded as he turned and began to walk toward the front pew where the other man was still lying. "Tell me, Dean, what is the name of your friend?"

"Seth," Dean muttered as he looked away from the window, watching warily as the older man approached the pew.

Peter lowered himself so that he was kneeling in front of the younger man again with a little difficulty, setting a wrinkled hand lightly on top of his head. "Seth," he repeated quietly, his smile returning. "That's a strong name."

Dean slowly made his way back over, securing the handgun on his belt as he stopped next to the pew as well. Peter looked up and met his gaze. "If you could carefully bring him with you, then you may come to my home, where I can tend to his ribs."

"_You_ can do that?" Dean arched an uncertain eyebrow.

Peter chuckled quietly. "What he needs is a doctor, there is no denying that," he muttered. "But until you are able to get him to one, I can secure them a little so that walking will be more manageable for him, as well as hopefully prevent more serious damage. Also, I'd like to look over any injuries that _you_ may have sustained in the accident, Dean." His light gaze traveled over the dried blood that stained the younger man's right cheek.

Dean looked back at him for a long moment before he sighed and nodded once. He wasn't too comfortable entrusting their lives with some stranger when he wasn't sure if there was anyone who _could_ be trusted, but once again, he found himself faced with no other option if he wanted to do the right thing for Seth.

"Okay," he finally agreed. "But I don't need much attention. I don't have any serious injuries. It's him that I'm more worried about."

"Understandably so." A somber look briefly passed over Peter's face. "You know, the world is not such an evil place, Dean."

Dean met his gaze before he chuckled. "I'm aware," he said as he crouched down in front of the pew beside the priest. "Let's just get him a little bit of help."

"Of course." Peter watched as the younger man got a secure hold of Seth's arms and slowly and carefully began to lift him into a sitting position. He reached out and helped to raise him by setting a wrinkled hand behind his head, and Dean wrapped a secure arm behind his friend's back when he was up high enough before he began to sit him up the rest of the way.

A quiet, pained whimper escaped from Seth when he was nearly completely up, and his dark eyes slowly fluttered open as he looked around him in a slightly disoriented way. "De... Dean...?"

"It's okay," Dean assured him quietly, supporting the other man when he winced in pain when he was finally upright. "We're just gonna keep going a little further, and then you can rest for a while. Sound good?"

Seth nodded as he let out a quiet breath, but his gaze faltered when it landed on the older man beside Dean. Peter smiled when he saw the suspicious look that passed over his face.

"It's all right, Seth," he muttered. "As I told Dean, you are both safe in my house."

Dean watched as Seth glanced at him for confirmation, and he nodded slightly in return. "It's our only option right now, man," he added.

Seth sighed as he nodded, glancing from Dean to Peter and back. "Okay," he agreed, his tone faltering slightly. "Let's go, then..."

"All righty." Dean grabbed his friend's arm and wrapped it around his neck, winding his other arm around his waist before he slowly rose to his feet with Seth. The other man winced but still set his jaw in determination as they both straightened up, and he briefly closed his eyes and sighed quietly before he nodded to Dean. Peter rose to his feet as well, a concerned look in his eye before he gave them a warm smile.

"Follow me."

Dean and Seth exchanged one last glance before they slowly began to follow after the older man, pausing in front of the altar as Peter extinguished the candles and bent over and picked up his shotgun before they made their way to a door that led out of the sanctuary. The priest brought them down a narrow, dimly lit hallway before passing through another door that opened up into the kitchen of a one-story house. Dean glanced around at the tiled floor and the pale yellow walls as the priest set the weapon inside what appeared to be a storage closet before he helped Seth out of the room and down another hall to a warmly-lit room with a single bed and a nightstand that held an old copy of the Bible beside it. There were no windows, but a small, golden cross hung on the wall above the white-sheeted bed.

"This is my guest room," Peter explained, gesturing ahead of him. "Please, go ahead."

Seth took a deep breath as he walked forward with Dean's support, wincing as he was slowly lowered down onto the bed. He let out a quiet breath as he leaned back against the headboard after the priest set up the pillow there to provide some comfort for his back, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to will the pulsating pain in his side to die down.

The older man sighed quietly himself as he carefully sat on the bed beside him. "I will need to see your ribs," he said.

A moment passed before Seth opened his eyes and nodded, slowly starting to work his shirt over his head. Dean took a couple steps forward, his eyes narrowing with concern when he saw the dark bruise that stained his left side. Peter nodded slightly as he lightly ran a couple fingers over the affected area.

"Yes, you have one broken rib for sure, possibly more as your friend has told me," he muttered thoughtfully. "I can help to secure them somewhat until a doctor can tend to them more thoroughly."

Seth met his light gaze. "Yeah, sure," he replied quietly. "Okay."

Dean looked away from the other man when Peter moved his gaze to him. "While I do that, there is a bathroom down the hall that you may use to wash up if you wish."

For a moment, Dean didn't budge. He didn't feel overly comfortable leaving Seth with someone he still wasn't completely sure that they could trust, but he sighed when his friend gave him a brief nod. "Thanks," he told him quietly before he turned and left the room, making his way to the end of the hall until he found the bathroom. He stepped inside and turned on the light, his light eyes widening slightly when he got the first real good look at his paler reflection when he stood in front of the sink and gazed into the mirror.

"Fuck..." He turned his face to the left to get a better look at the blood that stained the right side of his face and the bruise that was forming near his eye as well as his jaw. It certainly looked as though he had been in a car wreck.

Quickly looking around the small room, Dean picked up a folded red towel from the top of the short pile sitting on the bathtub and ran the hot water in the sink, waiting until steam began to rise before wetting it and gently beginning to rinse his face. He hissed quietly in pain when the heat stung his cheek as the blood began to clear, revealing the few cuts that marked his face. A couple of them were deeper than others and probably should have been looked at and sealed with stitches, but he would just have to do the best he could with what he had. Dean then applied some soap in attempt to help fight any possible infections that were lingering from the accident the night before, wincing slightly when the lacerations stung even more before he rinsed his face a second time and drying with another towel. He gazed at his reflection once more, glad that he had taken the older man up on his offer since he was feeling much better after getting cleaned up a bit.

Keeping the towels he had used with him, Dean turned off the light and stepped into the hall, making his way back toward the guest room before he paused when he heard that Peter and Seth were in the middle of a personal conversation.

"You feel no animosity toward your father for leaving?" the priest was asking.

"No," Seth answered quietly through a wince. "I mean, why should I? I don't even know who my biological dad is."

"And you have no desire to find out?"

Seth's response came without any hesitation. "None. My mom remarried when I was two, so my brother and I had a dad growing up. We were okay, and that's all that matters. If my real dad didn't want to stick around, then that's his problem, not mine."

Dean's eyes narrowed slightly from where he was leaning against the wall. Though Peter appeared to be a caring man, he still wasn't completely sure what his intentions were. He, of course, knew about the absent father of one of his best friends, but he wasn't too comfortable with the older man gently prying into the private lives of both him and Seth. In fact, it unnerved him.

With a sigh, Dean walked the rest of the way to the guest room and stepped inside, seeing that Peter was just finishing wrapping Seth's midsection securely with bandages. "Now, this is only a means of support," the older man reminded him. "A doctor will have to actually set the ribs that are broken, but this will help temporarily until you are able to reach a medical facility. You will still have to be very cautious and not overwork that area, however."

Seth nodded slightly, glancing at Dean standing near the doorway before he winced as he carefully slipped his shirt back on over his head. Peter followed his gaze, and a small smile appeared on his face when he saw the other man. "Well, you're looking better," the priest muttered, slowly pushing himself to his feet.

"Yes, thank you," Dean said with a small smile and a brief nod. "What should I do with these towels?"

"Here, I'll take those." Peter reached out with a wrinkled hand and took the two red towels from him. "Why don't you come with me? I'd like to check on your injuries a little more. Seth, just get some rest for now."

Dean watched as Seth carefully laid back against the pillow and let out a quiet breath as he closed his eyes, and he switched off the light for him before he followed the priest back out into the hall. Peter paused and opened a small wooden door on the wall across from him, tossing the towels down a laundry chute before he shut it again and led the way back into the kitchen with the pale yellow walls.

"Have a seat," he told him.

Dean lowered himself down into one of the chairs at the wooden table while the older man grabbed an ice cube tray out of the freezer before dropping a few into a clear plastic bag. He then winced slightly when Peter gently began to dab at his cheek.

"So, Dean, what exactly are the injuries you sustained in the accident?" the priest asked.

"Well, I'm no expert, but considering my head smashed the passenger's side window of our rental car, that's the main injury I have," Dean answered. "Doesn't feel like a concussion, though, and I know what those are like. Also, one of the cops in this place hit my jaw with his gun, which I stole." He briefly paused. "Is that something I need to confess or something? I mean, that's a sin, right?"

Peter stopped with the makeshift ice pack and met his gaze. "Dean, I understand your bitterness, I really do," he muttered. "But that's something you must try to let go of." He sighed quietly when the younger man just shrugged. "I also understand that you don't necessarily trust me, but you must also understand that I am going to help both you and your friend. But here, hold this in place for now while I get some bandages for your cheek. You'll need stitches to fully tend to them, but this should help for now."

Dean nodded as he held the bag of ice over the bruise on his jaw, watching as the priest began to make his way out of the kitchen. But then, Peter paused and glanced back at him with a thoughtful look on his lined face.

"This police officer who you stole the gun from. What happened to him?"

"Well..." Dean felt his stomach tighten almost painfully at the question. But he never got to answer as a loud pounding on the front door echoed through the kitchen.

* * *

Roman continued to stare at the poster in horror as he quickly scanned over it a second time just to make sure that he was reading it correctly.

_Wanted_? _Reward_? _Happy and safe hunting_?

The cold realization that the police in this town really weren't going to be of any help as Isabella had implied consumed him. Instead, he had given Sheriff Perry all the information he had needed to make these wanted posters for him and his friends. It was at that moment he also knew that if he had wanted any chance of walking away from this place alive, he should have taken her advice and left when he had the opportunity...

But then, Roman shook his head slightly. He still wasn't about to leave without Seth and Dean, especially now since it appeared that they were caught in some sort of trap. He couldn't abandon them to that. He felt slightly better knowing that he had alerted both Laurinaitis and his fiancée that something was wrong and to contact authorities within the next couple days if they didn't hear from him, but he also knew that as soon as these posters were distributed around town, that probably wouldn't do any good.

Isabella sighed quietly as she looked over the sign herself. "Shit... it's starting," she whispered.

Roman looked down at her. "What's starting, exactly?" he asked quietly.

The seventeen-year-old sighed as she met his dark gaze. "I'll explain it all to you," she reassured him. "But first, we have to get out of here. Now."

Muttering a curse under his breath, Roman turned his attention to the pile of wanted posters that were sitting on the desk. Every part of him wanted to reach out and tear them to shreds, to burn them, to erase any evidence that they had existed in the first place. But he somehow refrained, knowing that he couldn't make it obvious that he and Isabella had broken into the office despite the risks he knew he would be facing since the signs still did exist. He just had to hope that he could avoid the many people that he knew would be out to kill him as soon as the posters were released long enough to be able to find his friends.

Roman was brought out of his thoughts when Isabella set her hand lightly on his arm. "Come on," she urged. "Let's grab your bags and get out of here..."

"Okay." Roman glanced down at the poster that he held, crumpling it up in his hand before he followed his younger companion out of the office. He tossed it into the garbage can near the door before shutting it behind them, and Isabella led the way down a hall that brought them to the vending machines that he had visited when he had been at the station earlier. She pulled her set of keys back out of her pocket and stopped in front of a door next to them, quickly unlocking it and pushing it open before she turned on the light in what appeared to be a small storage room.

"Your bags should be somewhere in here," Isabella told him when he stepped into the room after her.

Roman nodded as he walked further inside, his dark eyes scanning the shelves on either side of him that contained property that had never been claimed by their rightful owners. A slight smile appeared at the corner of his lips when he found the three luggage bags that belonged to him and his friends and pulled them down before opening them and seeing that everything appeared to still be there after a quick inspection.

"All right, let's go," he muttered as he zipped up the last bag.

Isabella nodded as she turned off the light in the storage room, closing and locking the door behind them after Roman stepped out with the bags. They hurried through the station's lobby, pausing by the front door as she glanced up and down the street to make sure that no one was around before they stepped out into the night. She locked that door as well, and Roman followed after her as she led him down the street toward where the houses were set aside.

The roughly ten minute walk was silent until the seventeen-year-old approached a small, one-story white house with dark brown trim and a couple of flower pots in the front window. "You're not safe in your motel room anymore," she muttered as she unlocked the front door. "You can stay here until we figure out your next course of action." She pushed open the door before she turned to face him. "Jim and his wife live a couple of houses down. I just have to go pick up Jackson, but please, make yourself comfortable until I get back."

"Thank you." Roman watched as Isabella began to make her way toward a two-story house a short distance away before he stepped inside, turning on the light in what was a comfortable living room. He set the three bags down at the foot of the plush couch and left his shoes there as well before beginning to look around a little. There was a bookshelf filled with classic novels and children's stories in the corner with a comfortable armchair in front of it and a small fireplace on the adjacent wall. His gaze then landed on a wooden end table that held a lamp and a couple framed photographs on the other end of the couch, and he wandered over to get a better look. He smiled when he saw that one was a picture of Isabella with Jackson on her lap, both grinning broadly at the camera. But the other picture made the look falter.

Isabella and Jim were sitting in chairs next to each other with an arm wrapped around the other, both smiling at the camera. Standing in front of them with the same look on their faces were two identical blonde-haired girls.

_Something was poking his face... "I think he's dead..." A high-pitched scream echoed in his ear... Two blonde girls who were around eight wearing light floral print dresses and matching sandals with denim backpacks on their shoulders continued to glance back at him as they ran... They disappeared into a field of tall, swaying wheatgrass..._

Roman was quickly brought out of his thoughts when the front door opened, and he glanced up in time to see Isabella walk in with a sleeping Jackson in her arms. "Sorry about that," she muttered, closing the door behind her with her foot before she shifted her one-year-old son in her arms as she locked the door. "He was a little fussy when I got there. He coughed up a little on my shirt, so I'm gonna quickly put him in his crib and change. If you want to come into the kitchen and help yourself to some water or whatever's in my fridge, you can. It's just down the hall here."

"Thanks, I..." Roman began, but his sentence trailed off as Isabella hurried out of the living room. He had wanted to ask her about the twin girls, but it was something that could wait. He just had to wonder if they had possibly seen anything since they were the first ones to find him.

With a quiet sigh, he crossed the living room and pushed open the door, stepping into a dimly lit narrow hallway. There were two doors on each wall on either side of him, and not knowing which one was the kitchen that she had invited him to, Roman reached out and slowly opened the door closest to him on the left.

Isabella quickly turned around when the door to her room opened, having just set her dirtied shirt down and had picked up a fresh tank top to put on. Roman stared at her, startled, for a brief second before he closed his eyes and turned away to give her privacy.

"God, I'm so sorry..."

"Oh, no, it's okay." Isabella quickly pulled the white tank top over the dark sports bra she was wearing and turned to face him. "It was my fault... I should have mentioned which room was the kitchen. But I was just so eager to get Jackson in his crib..." She chuckled when she saw that her older companion was still looking away with his eyes closed tightly. "It's okay, Roman. I've got a shirt on now."

Roman cracked an eye open to make sure before he sighed quietly with relief and opened both eyes as he turned to look back at her. "I really didn't mean that, Izzy..." he muttered.

Isabella smiled and shook her head slightly as she bent over and picked up the dirtied shirt and dropped it into a clothes hamper against the wall. "How many times are you going to apologize?" she wondered. "It's okay. No harm was done, right?"

"Right..." Roman glanced around the room, seeing that the crib that was set up for her son was sitting at the head of her bed. "So, you and Jackson both sleep in here, then?"

"Yeah, at least until he's older and wants his own room," Isabella confirmed, stopping by the crib herself to check on him.

"I know what that's like," Roman replied with a chuckle. "My daughter will often climb into bed with my fiancée and I whenever I'm home."

A smile appeared on Isabella's face as she made sure that Jackson was covered enough with his blanket. "That's sweet. How old is she?"

"Three." Roman smiled himself as he thought about his little girl and how much he couldn't wait to see her again.

"She sounds like a good kid," Isabella said with a quiet sigh. "And I'm sure that Jackson will want his own room sooner rather than later. The other bedroom in this house is currently used as a guest room, and my sisters use it whenever they spend the night here."

"Sisters?" Roman repeated. "I didn't know you had any other siblings."

Isabella sighed and met his gaze. "Well, stepsisters, actually," she muttered. "My mom left this town to go to the city when Jim and I were kids, and my dad couldn't accept it. He remarried about nine years ago."

"So, are those the twin girls who are in that picture with you and your brother?" Roman asked.

"Oh, you saw that, huh?" Isabella smiled as she turned away from Jackson's crib and stepped out into the hall with Roman, starting to close the door behind her but leaving it open a crack. "Yes, that's them. Zoe and Alexis."

Roman smiled slightly before he followed her to the door across the hall and one over, seeing after she turned on the light that this was the kitchen. Isabella made her way over to the refrigerator and pulled it open while he lingered near the door, looking around at the small room from its tiled floor to the off-white walls. He turned his attention back to the seventeen-year-old when she set two brown bottles down on the table, seeing that they actually contained old-fashioned root beer.

"You're lucky," he joked with a slight smirk. "I know the drinking age really isn't observed here, but I couldn't, in all good conscience, let you have a beer."

Isabella laughed as she pulled out a chair at the table and sat down, Roman doing the same after her. "Fortunately, drinking's really not my thing," she said with a smile of her own.

Roman nodded, twisting off the cap on his bottle. He watched as his younger companion did the same, and they each took a sip before he sighed. "Izzy... You said that you knew what was going on here to my friends and I," he prompted. "What is it? What exactly are we up against?"

A long moment passed where Isabella took another sip of her soda before she set the bottle down and passed a hand over her face. "Things weren't always this way, at least to my knowledge," she finally began. "This town is so far out of the way of everything that we hardly ever got visitors. When we did, they'd usually just spend a night or two and then leave with no problems.

"But... early last year, a small group of motorcyclists got waylaid because of some inclement weather. I had just started working at the bar you and my brother were at earlier, and three of them came in and got completely wasted. They were there for nearly my entire shift. When I left, they followed me. And... and they..."

A look of understanding passed over Roman's face when her sentence trailed off as a thin line of tears appeared in her eyes. He let out a quiet breath and closed his eyes for a moment, opening them again when he heard a quiet sniff come from the seventeen-year-old. Now it made sense to him why she had always seemed so concerned about how it would appear to others if they were to be seen together and why she had said that Jackson had been the one good thing in a bad situation that she couldn't control.

"It's okay, Izzy, I understand," Roman murmured, his gaze softening as Isabella wiped a couple stray tears away. "You don't have to say anything more about that."

Isabella nodded, giving him a weak smile before she took a deep breath and a quick sip of her root beer. "My brother was furious when he found out," she continued quietly. "So he and his partner, with Perry's permission, found the three who attacked me and... and killed them. Then, they hunted down the rest of the motorcyclists who were with them and killed them, too. All except for one, and he was so scarred by everything that he hasn't been able to say a word about what happened.

"Since then, our town has been very wary of outsiders. We still don't get many, but when someone ventures too close..."

"They get stuck here," Roman finished quietly for her, remembering how Jim's car had seemingly come out of nowhere when it forced them off the road. "And are a part of this... this..."

Isabella sighed. "They claim it's justice for what's been done," she told him, absently tapping her root beer bottle against the table. "Even though it only happened once. I think it's wrong. I mean, the people who did this to me are dead. They should have just left it at that... But for my brother, his partner, Perry, and pretty much everyone else in this town, it's kind of become this annual... _game_, so to speak. They get some sick pleasure of hunting down outsiders as if they're some sort of animal... But they always leave one member of the group alive so they can suffer with the memory of what happened as a way to repay some past sin."

Roman met her gaze for a moment before he lowered it to his own bottle that his hand had lightly wrapped itself around. "That's why you wanted me to leave earlier," he said, mainly to himself. "Before any of this got started and... and so I wouldn't know what was happening."

"Yes," Isabella confirmed with a sad smile. "I didn't want you to have to carry the knowledge about what this town does... I didn't want you to suffer with that horror." She paused, her gaze faltering. "But it's too late now since you know everything and since those signs are going out first thing in the morning..."

"It's all right." Roman let out a heavy breath. "I'll figure out something. It'll be okay."

Isabella chuckled quietly. "I know you'll try as hard as you can..." She stopped again, her tears returning as she turned away from her older companion. "I'm so sorry, Roman... It's my fault that you and your friends are stuck in this..."

Roman eyes narrowed slightly. "No," he told her as a few tears escaped down her cheeks. "Izzy, look at me." He waited until she raised her damp gaze to his before he continued. "This is _not_ your fault. What happened was regrettable, but it's over. Your brother and everyone else aren't doing this for _you_ anymore, Izzy. This is strictly for them and the sick pleasure that they get out of it. This is a _game_ to them, and I'm just some pawn in it, I understand that. But don't put this on yourself because I don't blame you for any of it. If anything, you now have the chance to try to break this cycle and to help both me and my friends to survive. You can do that, Izzy."

"I... I know..." The seventeen-year-old took a deep breath as she wiped her tears away. "I know..."

For a long moment, neither of them said a word as they sipped their sodas in silence. Then, Isabella leaned forward on the table slightly, causing Roman to look up at her curiously. "Not all outsiders are cruel," she muttered. "You're an example of that. But to my brother and everyone else in this town, everyone who lives in the world around us is some sort of horrible monster." She paused for a moment, brushing some loose strands of her blonde hair back from her face. "This place is all I've ever known, but... I'd like to think that the outside world isn't such a horrible place. I'd like to think that there is kindness out there, too, and that not everyone is evil. My mom wouldn't have gone someplace like that..."

A small smile appeared on Roman's face. "You're right to think that, Izzy," he replied. "Yes, there is cruelty and hate out there, as there is anywhere, but there's a lot of good too. There's kindness, even just small acts of it, if you look in the right places." He looked at her curiously. "Have you considered leaving this town?"

Isabella gazed at him for a long moment before she took another sip of her root beer. "I... I've thought about it," she admitted quietly. "I'd like to think that... that there'd be good opportunities for Jackson out there, but... I don't know if leaving home would be the best idea."

"Understandable," Roman agreed. "And you're young yet. No need to rush a decision."

"That's what I thought."

There was another long moment of silence before Roman sighed and leaned forward on the table a little himself. "Izzy, please tell me honestly. Is there any chance that Dean and Seth are alive?"

Isabella attempted to give him a smile. "Judging by how angry my brother sounded, it sounds like your friends managed to get away from where they were taken," she said. "That means there is a good chance that they're still alive, yes. Plus, if they did manage to escape, it gives them a bit of a head start before those wanted posters go out tomorrow."

"Do you have a map or anything of the countryside out there?" Roman pressed. "Anything that could be helpful for me to try to find them?"

"Yes, I think–!" Isabella started, but she didn't get to finish as a loud knock suddenly came from her front door.

**Author's Note**: All righty, that's it for that one! Some more answers are revealed here, but as there is with everything, there's still more than meets the eye. And Dean and Seth are supposedly in a safe place, but what are Peter's intentions? We'll have to keep going to find out! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing associated with the WWE. Just any OCs!

**Summary**: After a car accident leaves them stranded in the middle of nowhere, the members of the Shield find themselves wrapped up in a deadly game where no one can be trusted but each other. But there is one catch– the game is intended for only one winner, and to lose is to die.

**Author's Note**: Hey, everyone! I just wanted to take a moment and thank you for all the reviews for this story so far! This is the first Shield story that I started writing, and even though I've written with them more since, it really means a lot that you guys are liking this one so much. So, I'd say for my first attempt with these three as the main characters, it's been turning out pretty well :) Now, after the situation both Seth and Dean and Roman found themselves in at the end of the last chapter, let's see what comes from it! Hope you guys enjoy!

_Chapter 7_

Dean glanced at Peter, who was keeping his face impassive, as he set his hand on the gun that was sitting securely on his belt. "Who the hell is that?" he demanded suspiciously.

The older man met his gaze. "I'm not sure," he said quietly. "But it would be best if you and Seth were not to be seen. Hurry now. I can only give you a couple of minutes, Dean."

With a sigh, Dean stood from the table and left the kitchen, jogging down the hall to the guest room. Another loud round of knocks came from the front door, and he heard Peter's call of "Coming!" as he rushed to the bed. He quickly and somewhat forcefully shook Seth to wake him, watching as his eyes slowly fluttered open before he began to pull him towards him.

"Come on," he muttered anxiously. "Get under the bed."

Seth paused with confusion. "... What?"

"Damn it, just do it!" Dean didn't wait for his friend to protest before he finished pulling him off the mattress, ignoring his wince of pain before he quickly pushed him under the bed as carefully as he could. He hated being so rough, but with the situation at hand, he figured that this was the safest place Seth could get to in his condition. "Just stay quiet and don't come back out until _I_ tell you to."

When he got no argument from the other man, Dean then took a couple of seconds to smooth out the sheets and pillow to make it look as though no one had been there before he rose to his feet. Since there was only room for one of them under the bed, he'd have to quickly find something else before whoever was visiting came into the house. His gaze passed over the golden cross that hung above the bed and the copy of the Bible on the nightstand beside it, and hoping that at least Seth would be safe, he hurried out of the room to see that Peter was nearly at the door in the kitchen.

Cursing heatedly under his breath, Dean quickly looked up and down the hall before he pulled open a door that was almost directly across from the guest room to see that it was another small storage closet. It would have to do, and at least with the thin vents that were in the door, he could keep an eye on how his friend was doing across the hall. He opened it a little more before he squeezed into the small space, shutting the door behind him just as the priest opened the front door to greet his late-night guests. Since the kitchen was so near, he could hear exactly what was being said.

"Good evening, Officer Richards. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"Please, Father, you know that to you, it's just Jim," the new arrival replied.

Dean heard the front door close, sure that the cop was now inside. "And to you, Jim, you know that I am simply Peter," the older man replied.

"But of course."

This man named Jim had a smugness about him that rubbed Dean the wrong way, and he lightly set his hand on the gun on his belt. Not to mention he was a police officer, and he certainly didn't trust the law enforcement in this town since another cop had already tried to kill him and Seth.

"Why don't you have a seat, Jim?" Peter suggested, his voice sounding somewhat strained. "That way, we can talk comfortably."

"Sorry to say I'm not really here to talk, Peter," Jim told him. "Though I probably do have some recent sins I can confess, but I can always come back for that later." There was a pause and the quiet sound of ruffling paper. "Have you seen these men?"

There was another pause as the older man probably looked at whatever the officer had handed him before he sighed. "It's starting again, is it?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Peter," Jim answered. "But we have three dangerous men out there. Something has to be done."

Three dangerous men? Dean's eyes narrowed with confusion. He had no doubt that the officer was talking about him, Seth, and Roman, but what they had supposedly done to be considered dangerous in the eyes of the law, he would never know.

There was a long moment of silence before Peter sighed. "I understand, but you know how I feel about this," he muttered. "I know you are angry about what was done to your sister, but that was a year ago. You did what you felt like you had to then, but not all outsiders are like them. Not all of them are dangerous. There is no reason to continue this vicious cycle with innocent people."

Jim chuckled. "Father, you always try to see the best in people," he said. "Unfortunately, not all of us can be like you. We have a job to do. Now, two of these men have _killed_ my partner and escaped, and we have reason to believe that they may be around this area. Have you seen them?"

Dean felt himself tense as he inwardly cursed and waited for the priest's answer. His jaw set tightly as he held his breath and slowly slipped the firearm off his belt and made sure it was loaded. From what Jim was saying, it sounded like there was more than one officer there, and if he and Seth were to be found, he could possibly take one of them out before shots were returned. Surely since the priest knew that they had killed a man, he would tell them right where they were, and he wasn't going to go down without at least fighting back as much as he could.

"No, I have not seen them."

Surprised by Peter's answer, Dean slowly and quietly let out the breath that he had been holding. It appeared that they had a couple more minutes at least, though he wasn't sure how much longer their good fortune would last.

"Are you absolutely certain?" Jim pressed. "This is the closest spot they could have come to from the empty farm they were being kept at since last night."

There was a brief pause before Peter sighed quietly. "I haven't seen them," he repeated.

There was a loud _pound_ followed by a few near silent but heated words as Jim must have let out his clear frustrations on the older man's wooden kitchen table. "Well, I'm going to have Stan do a quick sweep of the house before we check your sanctuary, just to ensure that they haven't snuck in anywhere," he finally muttered. "These two here, Seth and Dean, are to be considered incredibly dangerous. They killed my partner, Tom Stevens, and I'm certain they'll kill again if they're not caught soon."

"Go ahead and search," Peter told him, his tone remaining steady. "I have nothing to hide."

Dean took a cautious step closer to the door when he heard someone making their way down the narrow hall, peering through the vents to see a short and portly man with dark hair who was wearing a uniform consisting of a familiar beige shirt and pair of brown pants was drawing closer. He was whistling quietly as he ambled along, pausing in front of the storage closet that was serving as his hiding spot for a brief moment before he turned and made his way into the guest bedroom across from him.

Seth continued to stare up at the dark underside of the mattress and springs above him, confused by the conversation that had taken place between Peter and Jim. What had any of them done to deserve to be hunted in this manner? He had only pulled off the interstate for gas and a couple extra snacks for the road. Last time he checked, that wasn't a crime or an action that could classify them as dangerous. The only thing the officer had said that was based in fact was that they had killed the deputy and escaped, something he was sure would cause the priest to report them. But at least for the time being, it appeared that he wasn't going to do so.

Then, he gasped quietly when he heard a pair of heavier footsteps and whistling drawing nearer, the action causing him to wince and set a hand lightly over his side. Dean pulling him off the bed and shoving him under it had definitely aggravated the pain in his ribs despite the older man having wrapped them, only dulled slightly by being able to lie on his back for those few short minutes. Seth quickly glanced at the door, seeing that a pair of boots were paused in front of a storage closet across the hall before they slowly made their way into the room he was using. He inhaled as much as he could without excruciating pain and held his breath, hoping not to be heard as whoever had entered walked around the small space before sitting down on the bed with a heavy sigh. Seth let out the breath he had been holding as the bed creaked under the sudden weight since it was too painful to keep it in, and his dark eyes widened slightly when the mattress stopped only a few inches above his face.

Dean heard the bed creak when the officer must have sat down, tightening his hand around the gun as he reached out with his other toward the doorknob. But before he could reach it, he paused when a thinner blond-haired, uniformed man who must have been Jim made his way into the hall and stopped outside of the guest bedroom.

"Stan, get off your lazy ass and let's search the rest of this place," he snapped impatiently. "If they're not here, I don't want them to get too far ahead!"

Seth sighed quietly with relief when the bed creaked again as the other officer rose to his feet and slowly followed Jim out of the room, making their way down the rest of the narrow hall and checking the couple other rooms they had left. From his vantage point in the storage closet, Dean watched through the vents as the two men, clearly frustrated that they hadn't found what they were looking for, quickly made their way back into the kitchen.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Peter," Jim muttered, his tone displeased. "We'll just take a quick look around your sanctuary for your own safety and be on our way. And if you see any sign of either Seth or Dean, please contact us immediately."

"I will," Peter assured him. "God be with you both."

The only answer the priest received was a quiet grunt before the loud sound of the front door slamming shut filled the kitchen. Dean waited for a moment to make sure the officers were really gone before he pushed open the door and stepped out into the hallway, keeping a tight hold on his gun just in case. Seeing that Peter was the only one in the kitchen, he quickly made his way into the guest room and crouched down in front of the bed.

"Okay, Seth, let's go," he muttered, reaching under it and grabbing a hold of his friend's arm.

Seth began to push himself out from under the bed with the other man's help, wincing when the motion aggravated his ribs. "That was a pretty close call, huh?" he asked quietly as he carefully leaned back against the mattress after he had some help sitting up.

Dean briefly met his gaze before he chuckled. "No shit, man," he answered, his tone as quiet as Seth's. "But look, I don't think we should stay..." However, his sentence trailed off when his friend's eyes widened slightly, and he quickly turned around with his gun raised to see that Peter was standing in the doorway.

"I didn't tell the deputy that the both of you were here, but I believe you now owe me an explanation," the priest said, his face impassive. "After all, you killed a man..."

"No way," Dean snapped adamantly with a brief shake of his head. "I believe you owe _us _an explanation. What the fuck is going on around here?!"

Peter gazed at the two younger men for a long moment before he sighed as his light gaze faltered. "Very well." He then turned and left the doorway, slowly making his way down the hall back to the kitchen.

Seth looked up at Dean as the other man cautiously lowered his gun. "Let's go," he muttered. "I wanna hear what this guy has to say."

Dean nodded, securing the firearm on his belt before he grabbed his friend's arm and wrapped it around his neck, winding his free arm behind his back before raising them both to their feet. Seth winced a little, but his dark gaze remained steady as they both left the guest room and made their way down the narrow hall to the kitchen, where Peter was seated at the table looking over a piece of paper. Dean carefully lowered the other man into the chair across from him before he leaned on the table, his light eyes directed intently at the priest.

"Now _what_ is going on?" he demanded.

The older man sighed as he lowered the paper to his lap. "You must understand, Dean, that I'm not from here originally," he began quietly. "I only moved here from the suburbs of Charleston about five years ago now..."

Seth's eyes narrowed slightly. "What brought you way out here, then?" he wondered.

Peter sighed, his gaze faltering. "I know it is often frowned down upon, but... I had a wife who helped me to run my parish in one of the less fortunate areas in Charleston," he explained. "But when she died... I just didn't have the heart to continue. She would do so much for the children in that neighborhood, but I just couldn't. So I shut down the church, packed up my car, and just left. I really had no idea where I was going. I figured wherever He wanted me to be at that point in my life was where I'd end up."

Dean and Seth exchanged glances before they both turned back to the older man. "And then?" the former prompted, not really seeing how this had anything to do with their current predicament.

"Well, to make a long story short, I was lost," Peter continued quietly. "I felt like I was going in circles, which I probably was. I pulled into a late-night diner that was in the middle of nowhere, and there I met a man named Robert Perry. We got to talking since it didn't seem like too many people wound up at this place in the middle of the night, and he bought me some coffee. He told me that he was the sheriff of a small town that was local but out of the way, and at the time, that sounded ideal. Being somewhere that was more isolated would give me time to myself, which was exactly what I needed. I mentioned to him that I was a priest but was looking to retire, but then he told me that his town had been trying to get a parish going for some time but couldn't since there was no one who wanted to run it. He asked if I would consider it, and by the end of our time at the diner, I agreed. I still couldn't pass up anyone who needed my help."

"So... does this have anything to do with what's happening to us?" Seth asked, trying to get to the point of why they were now stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Peter sighed once more, casting his light gaze down to the paper he held. Dean glanced down as well before he reached forward and took it from his loose grasp, seeing that it was a wanted poster. His eyes widened when he saw the black and white picture of him, Roman, and Seth as they celebrated the latter's birthday, and he quickly read the handwritten text underneath.

"Reward money? Happy and safe hunting?" He raised his gaze back to the priest, holding up the sign. "What the fuck is this?!"

Seth reached up and took the poster from his friend's hand, his own eyes widening with horror as he read it over. He looked at the older man across the table from him as soon as he was finished, his heart plummeting. With that kind of money being offered, he knew it would only be a matter of time before whoever came across that sign would be after them. "Is this some sort of sick game?"

"That's exactly what it is," Peter confirmed with a slight nod, lowering his gaze. "It happens whenever outsiders cross our borders since this town is very wary of them. Many of those posters were made, and they'll go out first thing in the morning."

Dean shook his head slightly with a sigh as he glanced at his friend. "Remember what that deputy told us, Seth?" he muttered. "That this is all one big survival challenge or whatever?"

Seth slowly nodded as he set the wanted poster down on the table. "I also remember him saying that if two of us died, the other would live," he added quietly, turning his gaze back to Peter. "What's that all about?"

The older man's gaze faltered. "Yes, that's true. This so-called game that this town plays started last year is intended for only one victor," he said. "I suppose that goes back to the event that caused all this to begin with." He paused for a moment, letting out a quiet breath. "Jim Richards, the deputy who was here a short time ago looking for the both of you, has a younger sister named Isabella. She was only sixteen at the time and had a job at the only bar in this town. Well, there was a group of motorcyclists who got waylaid here, and long story short, three of them went to that bar that night, and after drinking too much, followed her out after her shift was over."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Did they kill her?" he asked.

Peter shook his head, his aged features weary. "No, no... But they took advantage of her, and she now has a one-year-old son because of it," he answered quietly. He took a deep breath before he continued. "As you can probably imagine, Jim was furious. With permission from Sheriff Perry, he and his partner killed the three men who attacked her, as well as the rest of the group who was staying here. All except for one. From what Isabella has told me about that night, they spared him so there would be one to suffer with the memory of what happened in this town to pay for what they did."

"And... they've continued to do this to people who get too close?" Seth's dark eyes narrowed angrily as his voice rose a bit. "Why would they be hunting _us_ now? It's not like _we_ did that to that guy's sister. We have nothing to do with that! We don't even _know_ her!"

"I know, Seth." Peter's gaze saddened. "As you both probably heard me say, I don't approve of this and never have. Hunting down innocent people to kill them for no reason is against everything that I believe and teach to others. But they found some thrill in doing so the first time, and they want to continue to get that same thrill. Except now the whole town is involved in the hunt..." He paused for a moment. "Although... I suppose I should have seen it coming. After all, it's not the first time."

Seth raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Peter met his gaze. "This town has always resorted to violence first, ever since I've been here," he explained. "When a citizen commits any crime, rather it be a theft or something as severe as murder, the punishment has always been some act of brutality and cruelty. A hand for stealing from a neighbor, worse for assault, death for murder... Jim and Isabella's father was at the head of this crusade for primitive torture for criminals, along with Sheriff Perry, since they felt that it was the best way to keep people in line, and the same principle has unfortunately been handed down to his son. But it's not about justice anymore. As I said before, they want that same thrill they got the first time they did something like this. It is nothing more than a game to them now, a game they play when outsiders such as yourselves stray too close."

Dean sighed heavily as he pushed away from the table and began to pace the kitchen. "Fuck, this place is messed up..." he muttered, mainly to himself. "I mean, yeah, I killed that jackass deputy, but he was gonna kill us if I didn't..."

Seth watched his friend for a moment before turning back to the older man. If what Peter said was true, they were not only marked for death because they were outsiders, but because they had killed someone. "Is there any chance that our friend Roman is still alive?" he wondered, concerned since their missing friend didn't have this knowledge. "Tell us honestly. I mean, that guy's partner who almost killed us said that he was, but it's been a while..."

Peter appeared thoughtful for a moment, and Dean stopped his pacing to hear his response. "Well, from what it sounded like by what Jim was saying, he is for now," he told him quietly. "But if he's in the town itself, which it also sounds like he is, he won't stand a chance come tomorrow morning when those posters go out unless he knows about what's going on and is able to escape."

Dean passed a stressed hand over his face, and Seth let out a defeated breath as he slowly moved his gaze back down to the wanted sign for him and his friends. It was one thing he never would have thought he would see his own face on. The picture had to have been taken from Roman since he knew it was one that his older friend kept on him, and a small smile appeared on his face despite the dreaded inevitable that now faced them. It had been late in May when he, Dean, and Roman had gone out to a bar after one of their weekly shows down in Florida on the developmental scene, and they had almost stayed out all night to celebrate his birthday. It had been one of the best times he had had with friends for the special occasion.

The smile slowly vanished from his face as Seth closed his eyes for a long moment. The thought that he could lose not just one but possibly two of his best friends was a thought that he couldn't bring himself to accept.

Dean let out a quiet sigh as he watched his friend before he reached out and picked up the wanted poster from its place in front of him, tearing it into two uneven halves. Even though they now found themselves in a backwards town facing a death sentence, one thing was certain to him. He and Seth couldn't stay in the house any longer. They had to find Roman and get the hell out before the inhabitants of this place had the chance to kill any of them. He refused to change that plan even in the slightest.

But there was only one problem. He didn't know how they were going to find Roman.

* * *

Isabella glanced at Roman sitting across the table from her nervously. "Go stay in my room," she muttered. "It wouldn't be good for you to be seen here."

Roman set his bottle of root beer down on the table as he and his younger companion both rose and left the kitchen. He crossed the hall and quietly entered the bedroom he had accidentally walked into earlier, closing the door behind him to the point that it was still open a crack. Not wanting to wake Jackson, he lingered close to the door to hear who the late-night visitor was.

"Hey, Dad," he heard Isabella say, almost able to distinguish the smile on her face through her tone. "This is unexpected."

"I just wanted to make sure that you were doing okay, honey," a deep, gruff voice he didn't recognize replied. "With these reports from your brother that I've been getting, even though I'm retired from the police force now, I can't take any chances."

There was a brief pause. "About the outsiders?" Isabella asked. "What's he been saying? Has he caught them yet?"

Roman tensed slightly as her father sighed. He was almost afraid to hear his response. "Fortunately, we've got one trapped right here in town at the motel. He'll be the easiest one to take care of once morning comes," he answered. "He won't get far, even if he does try to run. But once your brother comes back after checking on Stevens out at the old Hawthorn Grove farm where the other two are being kept, this hunt can finally get started."

Hawthorn Grove. Roman made a mental note of the name of the farm where Dean and Seth were being kept. It would narrow his search dramatically, and even if his friends had managed to escape, it would at least give him a smaller area to try to find them, which would hopefully give him a better chance.

"So, the other two outsiders are alive?" Isabella pressed.

"For now," her father confirmed. "But this town is getting restless, you can already feel it. This one is going to be good."

There was a long silence, which only made Roman even more anxious. Finally, Isabella sighed. "I'm glad," she muttered.

The older man chuckled. "Don't be so enthused now, Isabella," he said. "By the way, how is Jackson doing?"

"He's doing a little better," Isabella told him. "The medicine I got for him seems to be working. He's on his way back to being his cheerful self."

"Good to hear, good to hear. Is it possible to see the little guy?"

Roman's heart nearly stopped, and he quickly cast his dark eyes around the room to search for any last minute hiding spots. He noticed the closet beside the crib, and he started to back away from the door until he heard the seventeen-year-old's response.

"He's sleeping right now, Dad. And since he's still getting over his whooping cough, I'd rather not disturb him..."

"Understandable, dear. How about you bring him over for a little while before you go to work tomorrow night?"

"Sure, that sounds good. I'm sure he'd love to spend some time with his grandpa."

"All right, dear. Well, I just wanted to stop by to see how you were doing. I have to stop by the station now to see Perry since he wanted to discuss the newest report he got from your brother. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Dad."

Roman sighed with relief, closing his eyes for a moment as he passed a hand over his face. That had been much too close of a call. Then, he quickly turned around to look at the crib again when a loud cough came from behind him followed by a sound of distress, and his gaze faltered when he saw that Jackson was starting to get wakeful.

Unsure of what else to do, he made his way across the room and looked down, watching as the one-year-old's light eyes started to open. He reached down and lightly patted his back, an action that had often calmed his own daughter when she had been wakeful at his age. Jackson tensed as another loud round of coughing escaped from him, but his eyes slowly started to close again as Roman continued to pat his back, and a small smile appeared on the latter's face when he could tell that the child had fallen back asleep by the feel of his light, even breathing.

The door of the room opened a minute later as Isabella stepped inside, a look of concern crossing her face. "I heard him coughing. Is he awake?" she asked.

"Just fell back asleep," Roman answered, his smile lingering as he turned around to face her.

Isabella sighed with relief and returned the look. But then, her gaze faltered. "That was too close," she muttered.

Roman nodded his agreement. "But I also know where to start looking for my friends," he added.

"Yes, that's a good thing." Isabella crossed the bedroom, leaning over the crib to check on Jackson before she reluctantly turned to Roman. "Come back to the kitchen. I have a map for you."

Roman followed his younger companion back across the hall to the brightly lit room, lingering by the table as she went through a couple of drawers beneath the sink before she finally found a piece of folded colored but tattered paper and a permanent marker. Isabella walked back to the table as she unfolded it to reveal a map of the region and smoothed it out as she set it on the wooden surface.

"Okay, Hawthorn Grove has been out of business for quite some time, but it's still one of the closest farms to here," she explained, uncapping the marker and making a big "x" over a large chunk of the southern part of the map. "You're here. And here's the farm." She paused and circled a small area of farmland, and as Roman watched her, he saw that it really didn't appear to be too far away. "If your friends aren't there, then the most likely course that they took is this way since this farm isn't set on the main road." She traced a line along the map. "Follow this path, and you'll reach an old church. Peter, the priest there, may be able to guide you in the right direction. He's helped me a lot since what happened last year, and he's been good to Jackson. But once you find your friends, you want to get to the main road as soon as possible and avoid the mountains if you can help it. There's a river that you can follow, which is here." She paused again, tracing along another line near the road that appeared to be the river she was talking about. "That will be your best chance out of this place."

After a moment of studying the map himself, Roman nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks for this, Izzy," he told her. "It'll definitely make my search a lot easier."

"Of course." Isabella smiled before she gasped quietly. "Oh! I wanted to give you these, too."

Roman watched curiously as the seventeen-year-old walked around him and opened the refrigerator, awkwardly balancing six water bottles in her hands. "Izzy, I can't take those..." he began.

"Sure you can," Isabella said as she closed the refrigerator door with her foot. "You'd be surprised how hot it gets out there, Roman, and I'm sure your friends would appreciate these when you find them, too."

Chuckling quietly as he folded the map and stuck it in his pocket behind his phone, Roman followed after her as they made their way into the living room where his three bags were still sitting next to the couch. He opened them and helped Isabella to slip two bottles into each before zipping them closed again. He then grabbed all three and rose to his feet, giving his companion another small smile. "Thank you for everything, Izzy," he muttered. "I don't think I could have gotten this far in this crazy town without your help."

"Don't mention it." Isabella gazed at him for a moment before she reached forward and wrapped her arms around him in a soft embrace, careful of any injuries he may have sustained in the accident. "Please be careful, Roman. And tell me you'll get out of here and go home to your family."

Knowing it was a promise that he couldn't make, Roman wound one arm around her and lightly rested his chin on top of her blonde hair. "I'll be careful," he assured her. "You don't have to worry about that."

"Good." Isabella let go and pulled away. "I hope you find your friends."

"I have every intention of doing so," Roman said as he walked past her. "Take care of yourself and Jackson."

Isabella nodded, watching as he opened the door and stepped out into the night. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, making sure that he was heading in the right direction that would lead him to Hawthorn Grove before she sighed and closed the door.

Roman kept a sharp eye out as he made his way down the dark street. Though he didn't think that the wanted posters would be going out until the next morning according to what Isabella had told him, there was still something about the empty streets of this town that unnerved him. He saw that he was approaching the lit corner where the motel was and paused under the streetlamp, setting one of the bags down to have a free hand to pull the map out of his pocket to make sure that he was going the right way.

But he never got the chance when he heard a quiet _click_ behind him before the hard barrel of a gun was pressed against the back of his head.

**Author's Note**: Oh, boy. Dean and Seth get out of a spot of trouble, and Roman gets into one. How will this turn out? Well, we'll have to keep going to find out! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing associated with the WWE. Just any OCs!

**Summary**: After a car accident leaves them stranded in the middle of nowhere, the members of the Shield find themselves wrapped up in a deadly game where no one can be trusted but each other. But there is one catch– the game is intended for only one winner, and to lose is to die.

**Author's Note**: Hey, guys! Thanks for the amazing reviews! I just want to take a moment to thank you for your continued patience and say that updates may be slowing up a little more because I'm officially back on campus for my hopefully final semester of college. It'll be a doozy, so thank you for in advance! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks, guys! :)

_Chapter 8_

Dean sighed as he brushed a hand over his bandaged cheek and stared up at the ceiling from the floor of the guest bedroom, though he was unable to make it out since it was completely dark in the small, windowless space. Now that he had the chance to think about it, he didn't see how this situation was much better than the one they were previously in, aside from the fact that they weren't tied up and Seth, at least, had a bed that he could stretch out on, which could be more beneficial to his ribs. He glanced behind him at the mattress he was leaning against, also unable to see his friend. He wouldn't have even known that he was there if it wasn't for the quiet sound of his even breathing.

But to say that he wasn't unnerved sitting in the complete darkness wouldn't have been entirely truthful. Sighing, Dean turned slightly and rested his arm on the bed, setting his eyes on his best guess of where the other man's face was. "Seth, are you awake?" he asked.

There was a moment of silence before a resigned sigh reached his ears. "I am now," Seth answered quietly.

Dean chuckled. "My bad," he muttered. "I didn't know you were actually asleep."

"Well, I was just starting to doze off," Seth admitted. "My ribs are too uncomfortable to get any real sleep. Plus I've been thinking about this... fucked up situation we're in... It'll only be a matter of time before everyone will be out for our heads..."

Dean nodded, though he knew it wouldn't be seen by the other man. "Yeah, you and me both," he agreed. "There has to be a way out of this without any of us getting killed." Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, brushing a fingertip lightly over the rectangular screen. The sudden light was blinding, and he quickly shut his eyes. "Fuck..."

"Damn it, Dean," Seth said from next to him, shielding his own eyes from the intense glare. "Give a guy some warning, why don't ya?"

"Sorry about that." Dean waited for a moment longer before he cracked one eye open to get a look at his phone. "For starters, I'm surprised that we actually have these on us still and that whoever dragged us out to the middle of nowhere didn't take them. But I just wanted to see if we could call out somehow. Maybe try to contact Roman or anyone else... But I don't have any reception. Do you by any chance? You have a different plan than I do..."

Seth sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out his own phone. Once more, he was nearly blinded by the sudden light in the pitch black room, but after squinting at the screen for a moment, he shook his head in defeat. "No, I don't either. But I haven't seen any cell phone towers anywhere close to here."

"Probably why they didn't bother taking our phones, then. They know we can't call out." Dean slid his phone back into his pocket and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "They figure we're just gonna die anyway..."

Seth put his own phone away, shifting to a slightly more comfortable position on the bed. It was difficult to find any spot that wasn't at least a little painful, and he winced when he accidentally moved a bit too far, causing his ribs to flare up. He waited for a moment before he opened his eyes and looked at where he thought the other man was. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean glanced over his shoulder, once again setting his gaze on where Seth could have been.

"Look, I just..." Seth paused, having a feeling he knew how his friend would respond to what he was about to say. "I was just thinking that if there were ever a time where you could escape if I wasn't with you..."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Seth, we had this discussion back in that shed, and my answer is going to be the same now as it was then," he replied. "It's either both of us, or neither of us. I'm not just gonna leave you behind. Hell, that's what these people would want, remember?"

"I... I guess so..."

A brief moment passed before Dean pushed himself to his feet, cautiously starting to cross the room as he held his hands out in front of him. It was an unnerving feeling to not be able to see his surroundings. However, he finally felt the hard surface of the wall beneath his fingertips, and he began searching for the door.

"What are you doing?" Seth asked curiously, able to hear the soft noise from across the room.

"Give me a sec," Dean answered, slightly frustrated as he continued his search. He finally felt the wooden surface of the door beneath his right hand, and he moved over a little to find the handle. After a few more seconds, he grasped the cool metal and glanced over his shoulder. "Warning. Light coming."

Seth's eyes narrowed slightly when the other man pulled open the door, allowing faint traces of moonlight to filter into the room. Dean gave his own eyes a moment to adjust before he walked out into the narrow hall, making his way down to the kitchen first to see that it was dark and empty. Peter had been going over some of his church records when he and Seth had retired to their room, and it seemed as though he had finally gone to bed as well. Satisfied, he walked down the hall to where the bathroom was, seeing that the door that belonged to the older man's room across from it was now closed.

"All right, Seth, he's asleep," Dean announced when he returned to the guest bedroom. He sighed quietly. "I know this is a good spot to rest up, but since the cops were here looking for us earlier and know that one deputy was killed, there could be more swarming this place at any time. Not to mention once those wanted posters are seen, everyone will be after us. We have to get out of here as soon as possible and try to find Roman. Before morning if at all possible... Are you up for it?"

A brief moment passed before Seth nodded and slowly sat up. "We need to find Roman before anyone else does," he agreed quietly through a slight wince.

"True that." Dean sighed as he walked closer to the bed, holding his hand out to the other man. Seth took it and pushed himself to his feet, grateful for his friend's hand when his ribs once more protested slightly to the action. But with the added support since Peter had wrapped them securely, his torso wasn't nearly as painful as it previously had been. Walking, at least, wouldn't be quite so difficult, though it would still be uncomfortable.

"You all right?" Dean asked, studying his face carefully as he set an added supporting hand on his arm.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Seth answered, giving him a small smile. "Let's just go." The further they could get when he wasn't in so much pain, the better.

"Okay, if you're sure." Dean slowly let go of his friend before he turned and left the room, making his way down the hall to the kitchen with Seth behind him. He crossed the dark room to the refrigerator and opened it, causing the other man to arch a questioning eyebrow.

"What are you doing?" he wondered.

"Getting some stuff for the road," Dean explained, grabbing four water bottles before handing two to Seth. "We're gonna be on the run for a while, and I don't know when we'll get another chance to actually stop somewhere for stuff like this." He continued to scour the refrigerator's contents, finally settling on some fresh fruit and a little bit of lunch meat. "Seth, can you go in the cupboard above the sink? He keeps some plastic bags in there."

"Sure." Seth opened the cupboard his friend had directed him toward, taking a couple bags and making his way back over. "We should get some food that doesn't have to be refrigerated, too," he muttered. "As you said, we'll be out there for a while, and we don't know when we'll be able to stop again."

Dean slipped the fruit slices in one bag and the lunch meat in another. "Good call," he said, zipping the bags closed as he glanced around the kitchen. "Check around. We won't take too much, but just enough to last us for a little while."

Still feeling somewhat hesitant about just taking food from the man who had done nothing but help them, Seth still started to look around as well, knowing that it would have to be done if they wanted to continue to try to make it through this sick game the town's residents played. He started checking more cupboards, pulling down a couple boxes of crackers and some fruit cookies. But then, he glanced over his shoulder when he heard the other man chuckle. "What's so funny?"

"Man, he actually has a breadbox," Dean replied, pointing at the counter next to the refrigerator. "I haven't seen one of these things in so long."

Seth rolled his eyes as he started putting the snacks he had found into a couple more plastic bags. "My grandma has one of those still," he told him. "I see it every time I go over there."

"Yeah, well, I guess not everyone has such awesome grandparents." Dean opened the box and pulled out the loaf of wheat bread inside. "I prefer Italian, but this will do."

Chuckling quietly, Seth put the boxes of salty and sweet snacks back up in the cupboard, bringing the bags he had filled over to the other man. "We can't be choosers right now, Dean."

"I know." Dean pulled the pocketknife he had taken from the deputy out of his pocket, flipping the blade open before he carefully began to cut a few slices off the end of the loaf. "Y'know, we used to have a breadbox at my house... But when I moved out, I just started sticking any bread I bought in the freezer."

"Yeah, I'm also guilty of that, considering I'm hardly ever home," Seth agreed. "Though I guess it's not the freshest way of keeping bread for just a short period of time."

Dean shrugged as he cut off another slice. "I guess a breadbox would keep bread fresh, as long as it's not for a prolonged amount of time. But I just defrost mine, and it tastes fine to me," he said. "I really don't see what the big deal is."

Seth shook his head slightly, his small smile lingering. "We're stealing food to go on the run," he commented. "I think this conversation could be had at a better time."

A small smirk appeared on Dean's face as he carefully brushed the blade of the pocketknife over his jeans to get rid of excess crumbs before closing it and sticking it back in his pocket. "Yes, well, I can't see us having this discussion at any other time," he muttered, carefully putting the rest of the loaf back in the breadbox. "Which is unfortunate, because this conversation is incredibly stimulating."

"Oh, yes," Seth agreed sarcastically. "The ways we keep bread is a very interesting conversation."

Dean laughed, opening the cupboard over the sink to grab another plastic bag for the bread slices he held. "Hey, you never know. The way one keeps bread could say a lot about a person." But then, he sighed. "All right, this should hold us for a little while. When this runs out, I don't know what we're gonna do..."

Seth's dark gaze faltered. "Hopefully we'll find Roman before that and even have some for him," he told him quietly. "Then we can find our way out of this place."

"Yeah..." Dean gazed at the other man for a moment with some uncertainty. It was funny to him how just a few hours before, he had been the one encouraging Seth that they would be escaping with their lives. But now, he was starting to have his own doubts.

However, he covered these thoughts with a small smirk that was more fitting for him. "Let's just get the hell outta this house for starters," he said. "That'll make me feel better." He paused when he saw Seth chuckle before a slight wince crossed his face. "How are your ribs?"

"They'll be okay for a while," Seth replied, setting a hand lightly over his left side. "Peter wrapped them well. But I agree, let's just get out of here and find Roman."

Dean nodded as he grabbed the bags of food he had compiled as well as his water bottles. He was concerned about the man in question since they had no idea where Roman could possibly be, but that didn't mean that he wasn't going to do everything he could in order to find him. Seth got a secure hold of his own water bottles before he paused and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. Dean glanced back at him curiously.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Seth didn't say anything as he pulled a few singles he had out of the big pocket and set them down on the kitchen table. "I feel kinda bad about just taking food from him after he did so much to help us," he finally answered, looking back at Dean as he slid his wallet back in the pocket of his jeans.

Dean rolled his eyes and laughed quietly. "Seth, you do realize that he probably would have let us have some if we had asked, right?" he muttered. "I mean, he's always said that his thing was helping people. And yes, I'll admit that he did patch us up, but..." He hesitated for a moment before he continued. "I still don't trust him. Not at all. I mean, with how he was prying into some private details of our lives, he could easily use that against us."

Seth raised a questioning eyebrow. "Are you talking about when he was asking about my dad earlier?" he wondered. "I didn't even know you had heard that... But, Dean, he didn't pry to get that. I just–!"

"Listen, he did the same thing to me with my parents when we were in the sanctuary," Dean interrupted. "He asks the right questions to get the information that he wants and that would be useful to him. He may seem like a harmless old man, but I don't buy it. Even if he's not originally from this town, he's lived here long enough to know how they operate as well as the policy about outsiders. It wouldn't surprise me if this was all part of this sick game of theirs to throw us off with false security or some shit..."

A long moment passed where neither man said anything more. Seth sighed, passing a hand over his face. He hadn't felt as though Peter had manipulated him in any way just to get information out of him that he could use against him in the later stages of this fight for survival. But with as much pain as he was in and as exhausted as he was, he honestly couldn't say for sure. What Dean was saying now was making him question everything he had thought about the priest who had been kind enough to take them in.

Dean studied his friend's conflicted features carefully. "Look, Seth, I'm just trying to think of all possibilities here," he told him. "I'm not saying that he actually does have underhanded motives for helping us, but it's something that I can't afford to look over."

"Wait. That _you_ can't afford to look over?" Seth repeated as he met his gaze. "What, is it just you now or something? Because last time I checked, we're both stuck here."

Sighing with frustration, Dean turned away from him and restrained himself from pounding the table since he didn't want to wake Peter. Tension was running high for both of them, that much was certain, but he didn't want to be at odds with his friend, the only person who wasn't against him. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, glancing over his shoulder back at him. "It's just..." He sighed. "I know how hard this entire thing is. I just... I want to see the best in this guy like you do, but it's hard for me to do when anyone could be trying to kill us at any time."

Seth nodded slightly before he sighed himself and lowered his gaze. "I don't necessarily trust him either, Dean," he admitted. "Not with everything, anyway. But I wouldn't be able to go anywhere yet if it wasn't for him. You know that."

Knowing that was a point he couldn't argue, Dean leaned on the table and looked straight at the other man. Seth met his gaze with a sturdy look of his own, watching as another smirk appeared on his face. "What?" the latter wondered curiously.

Dean chuckled quietly, lowering his gaze to the few single dollar bills that were sitting on the wooden surface between them. "You may want to bring those with you, Seth," he muttered, pushing himself away from the table. "You never know when you could use 'em."

Seth smirked. "What, in case there's a vending machine out in the middle of nowhere, Dean?" he replied.

"Ha. You're funny." Dean chuckled quietly. "You know what I mean. But it's up to you, man. If it'll clear your conscience or whatever, then you can leave the money there."

"Thank you, Dean. It's good to see that you're so concerned about my conscience." Seth watched as the other man turned and made his way toward the front door before he glanced down at the few singles he had set down on the table. He contemplated taking them back as Dean had suggested, but instead tightened his hold on his water bottles and left them where they were as he joined his friend.

"Now, if there are no police officers hanging around waiting for us, I'll be very surprised..." Dean muttered, shifting all the food bags under his arm. He took a deep breath and reached out with his now free hand, grasping the handle before he slowly pushed open the door and snuck a glance around at the vast, moonlit lawn in front of the house. The pond was sparkling as it always had been, but there was no one in sight.

"It's quiet," Seth stated, quickly glancing around himself to search for any officers who were possibly in hiding and waiting for them to leave the house.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Almost too quiet," he agreed, instantly on high alert. He looked around suspiciously before his gaze landed on the gravel parking lot and wide path in front of the church. "They'll probably expect us to go that way since it most likely leads to a road or something... Do you see anything else?"

Seth scanned the area in front of them before he nodded, pointing off to the left. "It looks like there's a bridge of some sort over there," he told him. "Seems like it goes for quite a ways..."

"Good eye." Dean sighed as he gazed at the bridge that stretched through the trees on either side of it, weighing his options. Following the gravel path from the parking lot would probably bring them to a main road, which would have been good if they weren't being hunted. The bridge would provide them with a way to travel without being as noticeable, but he had no idea where they could end up.

"We can try that for a while to see where it goes," he finally concluded. "If we reach a dead end or some shit, we can turn around and come back here."

Seth nodded his agreement, and he took a deep breath as he briefly set his hand over his left side when his ribs throbbed in protest to the amount of walking he knew was ahead of them. He shut the door of Peter's house behind him as he followed Dean out into the night, his step still slightly hindered by the pain that still lingered in his midsection. The other man glanced over his shoulder, slowing his pace slightly so he could make sure that Seth would be able to keep up with him as they approached what they could now see was a wooden bridge. The narrow planks were faded and weathered with age, and Dean suddenly found himself feeling somewhat uncertain about this particular course of action. The only saving grace, it seemed, was that there were thick wooden railings that they could hold on to, as well as three narrower ones beneath it to keep them nearly completely enclosed on both sides.

"So, what do you think?" Seth asked, catching his friend's slight hesitance.

"We'll see," Dean answered quietly as he glanced over his shoulder at him. "Stay here. I'll see if it's safe."

"Okay. Be careful."

"I'll try." Dean smirked slightly as he set a hand on the railing and cautiously set one foot on the bridge, making sure to test the planks before he put his full weight on them. The wood creaked a bit under the pressure but otherwise held securely. He slowly proceeded to take a few more careful steps, each one creaking, before he turned back to his friend.

"I think it'll be okay," he reasoned. "It's old, but not completely worn through. Just be careful where you step."

Seth nodded, setting a hand on one of the wooden railings as his friend had done as he carefully stepped onto the bridge. The planks creaked beneath him, and after hesitating for a moment, he cautiously continued to test where he was stepping as he made his way after Dean. He took a moment to look ahead of them to see where the bridge led, but with the heavy darkness pressing in around them and how the wooden structure wound through the trees on both sides of them, it was impossible to have any idea of where they were going.

He just hoped that it would bring them to their missing friend.

* * *

Roman winced when he was shoved none-too-gently into the desk, unable to brace himself for the impact since a pair of rusted handcuffs trapped his arms behind him. He closed his eyes tightly, his already sore and bruised sternum throbbing in protest to the treatment. Sheriff Perry glared down on him from behind his dark sunglasses, a stocky man with graying black hair and a bold, bushy mustache crossing his arms from beside him. After discovering him by the motel, the two men had dragged Roman to the station in the center of town, and clearly, they had been patiently waiting for this chance.

"Do you know why you were brought here, boy?" Robert asked, shutting the door of his office behind him.

Clenching his jaw tightly, Roman glanced over his shoulder at the sheriff. "No," he answered quietly but firmly. He assumed that it had something to do with this game that the residents of the town enjoyed playing, but since he wasn't supposed to know any of that information, he thought it would be best to keep up a charade of innocence for as long as he could.

Then, he couldn't keep a startled and pained sound from escaping when the fist of the second man suddenly collided forcefully with his jaw. "That's not the answer we were looking for, boy," he growled quietly, and Roman recognized the voice of Isabella's father. He then shoved the younger man's head roughly before he stepped back, allowing Robert to take his place as he leaned against the desk next to him.

"Where were you off to, boy?" he continued to question.

Roman slowly looked up at him. "Considering you found me there, I was on my way back to my motel room," he said casually.

The man with the bushy mustache stepped forward, but Robert held up a hand. "Stop, Simon, that isn't going to help right now," he cautioned before turning his attention back to Roman. "I'm going to ask you one more time. Where were you going, boy?"

"I already told you, I was on my way back to my motel room," Roman told him. He couldn't afford to divert from that story to risk being discovered. "And then you put a gun to my head."

"You lying son of a..." Simon began, but he was once again interrupted by a loud sigh from the sheriff.

"I know you used to be my top officer, but I need you to hold your tongue right now. Otherwise, I will have to ask you to leave my office." Robert lifted off his hat and set it down on his desk. "My problem here, boy, is I don't believe you. Deputy Jim Richards has told me that you're asking questions and poking around where you shouldn't be."

Roman's stomach tightened slightly with dread. "Is it a crime to ask questions?" he wondered innocently.

Robert chuckled quietly. "No, not by nature," he conceded. "But you're asking the wrong kinds of questions." He leaned forward on the desk. "What do you know about the state and whereabouts of your friends?"

Contemplating his answer, Roman looked up and met his gaze. "It was your job to try to find them," he muttered steadily. "Why don't you tell me?"

This time, he was able to brace himself for the fist that connected with his jaw that came from the sheriff, though it still didn't make it hurt any less. Roman shook his head slightly as he stretched out the sore area a bit, the distinguishable metallic taste of blood starting to make itself known in his mouth.

"What do you know?!" Robert demanded, clearly getting frustrated that their captive wasn't cooperating. "I have witnesses who say they saw you with Isabella Richards. Do you want to explain that one?"

Simon's dark eyes widened slightly as he looked at the sheriff. "Isabella?" he repeated quietly. When Robert nodded, his face darkened dangerously before he reached out and roughly grabbed Roman's shoulders from behind. "What were you doing with my daughter, you outsider?!"

"Stop!" Robert wrapped a restraining arm around the other man and pulled him back with some difficulty. "You need to calm down..."

However, the man with the bushy mustache wasn't too ready to agree. "I want to know what he did to her!" he yelled, pointing at Roman accusingly.

"Nothing!" Roman finally protested, rolling out his aching shoulders as best as he could. "I saw her at the clinic when she was getting some medicine for her son, and I saw her again at the bar she works at because I was invited out for a drink." He sighed heavily. "Nothing more. But I'd like to know why you're wasting your time interrogating me here when I've done nothing wrong!"

"I don't believe you..." Simon began, but he was cut off by the sheriff wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Why don't you step outside for a minute?" Robert suggested, gesturing to the door. Simon appeared as though he was about to argue, but he instead sighed and nodded curtly before he turned and left the office, slamming the door behind him.

Once he was gone, the older man sat down on the edge of his desk and pulled his pack of cigarettes and lighter out of his pants pocket. Roman watched as he took one and lit it with a wry smile. "I suppose it would be too much to ask you not to smoke in here," he muttered.

Robert inhaled on his cigarette as he turned his gaze to him, a brief moment passing before he exhaled the smoke in his direction. "Yes it would," he agreed as Roman turned his face away. "Considering you are under arrest."

"For what, exactly?" Roman wondered, chancing a glance back at the sheriff. "I was never informed, and you also didn't tell me my rights."

"That's because you ain't got any, boy," Robert told him, walking around to the other side of his desk and sinking down in his chair. He leaned back and rested his feet on the wooden surface so he could be more comfortable as he inhaled on his cigarette once more. "Your law enforcement has all those rights to protect you. What are they again? The right to be silent, the right to a lawyer, the right to a jury of peers, and all that other bullshit. You know, I never even learned them! I only know those three because all outsiders like you throw 'em at me. Well, those don't work here, boy. You've got no protection. And besides, you're already guilty."

Roman stared at him with wider eyes, his heart plummeting. "Guilty?" he repeated. "On what charges? We were forced off the road a little ways outside of your town! Where's the crime in that?!"

Robert, however, only laughed as he exhaled some more smoke from his cigarette. "I'm not even talking about the accident anymore, boy. That's already all taken care of," he said. "Deputy Richards did a fine job of getting you here, if I do say so myself." He paused for a moment when he noticed the steady look the younger man was regarding him with. "You already knew that, I assume."

"Yes." Roman kept his quiet tone even as well.

The sheriff slowly lowered his feet from the desk before he leaned forward slightly. "What else do you know, boy?" he asked. When Roman didn't offer a response, Robert forcefully pounded the wooden surface as he rose to his feet. "Answer me!"

Roman, however, kept silent as he simply continued to gaze at the older man intently. He didn't want to say anything that could give away the fact that Isabella had helped him since he didn't want to get her in any trouble. He winced when the sheriff's fist connected with his jaw once more, closing his eyes for a moment as he waited for the pulsating pain to die down.

Robert took a couple of deep breaths in effort to try to calm himself down. "You're making a mistake, boy," he finally muttered, leaning close to his captive. "If you don't tell me everything you know, things will only be worse for you." He watched as Roman slowly opened his eyes and met his gaze. "Still not talking, huh? Very well." He sat back down in his chair before he opened a drawer behind his desk and pulled out a manilla folder. "You have been arrested on terms of theft..."

"Theft?" Roman looked at him with confusion. "How is it theft when these bags are mine and they were never returned to me?"

The sheriff met his gaze with a slight smirk. "Doesn't matter, boy," he replied. "You still broke into this station somehow and took them. And your other charge is murder."

Roman's dark eyes widened fearfully. "I didn't kill anyone!" he protested.

Robert leaned forward on the desk again as he inhaled on his cigarette. "Deputy Tom Stevens was found murdered in an abandoned farm earlier tonight," he explained, blowing smoke into the younger man's face once again. "The very same one where your friends were being kept, except the only problem is they've disappeared. We have every reason to believe that they killed him and fled. All of you outsiders are the same. You're here together, you're charged together, and there's a steep price to pay for taking a life, boy. Never fear, though. We'll still find your friends like I promised. Especially when these go out first thing in the morning."

The older man paused as he pulled a sheet of paper out of the manilla folder and turned it around so that his captive could read it before he set it down on the desk between them. Roman glanced down at it, his gaze passing over the black and white picture of him, Seth, and Dean before he scanned over the familiar haunting words beneath it.

_Wanted... Happy and safe hunting..._

"That's your sentence there, boy," Robert concluded, seeming pleased as he leaned back in his chair.

Roman slowly looked up and met his gaze. "What, to be hunted down like some kind of animal?" he wondered.

Sheriff Perry smirked slightly. "That's exactly it, boy," he confirmed as he rose to his feet. "But that fun won't start until tomorrow. And I'm afraid that since you weren't cooperative, you'll be kept where we like to deal with our... highest security criminals. That way, you won't be going anywhere until this hunt starts."

Not liking the sound of what he was implying, Roman watched as Robert walked around his desk and made his way toward his office door before he glanced down at the handcuffs that trapped his arms behind him. With the right leverage, he knew he could potentially break them since they were so rusted, and he had no doubt that he could overpower both of the older men. But he also knew that course of action probably wouldn't get him too far since he knew that the sheriff had a gun on him, and he wouldn't have been surprised if Isabella's father had one as well.

But still, he knew he couldn't just leave Dean and Seth to the mercy of the town's inhabitants when their hunt started in just a few hours...

Robert opened the door and gestured for Simon to come back in. They both grabbed onto Roman's shoulders and yanked him to his feet, leaving the three bags behind as they dragged him out of the room. However, the younger man was surprised when they forcefully brought him toward the front door of the station instead of toward the back where he had seen the jail cells were kept.

"Where are we going?" he asked after they crossed the lobby, staggering slightly when he was shoved outside into the night.

The sheriff chuckled as he locked the door behind him, Simon keeping a tight hold on Roman. "You'll see, boy," he said, not giving much of an answer. "You'll see."

Roman felt his stomach tighten with dread as both men roughly led him down the dark street. Aside from their footsteps and his quickening heartbeat, it was eerily silent in the town. It was the calm before the storm, he knew, and the anticipation for this hunt for him and his friends was easily felt.

However, he was confused to see that Robert and Simon were bringing him to the walk-in clinic where his minor injuries had been tended to earlier that day. "Why are we..." Roman began, but his question slowly died away when he remembered the second room that the nurse had brought him past where more severe procedures took place.

_Blood stained the thinly cushioned bed as well as the floor around it... A bald man wearing a simple brown t-shirt and pants slipped the blood-stained sheets into a black garbage bag... He gave him an accusing stare as he walked by..._

"We have ways of making criminals like you talk, boy," Simon muttered with a menacing chuckle as Robert unlocked the front door of the clinic.

Roman's heart plummeted as he was pulled inside the dark building. He was beginning to think the story the nurse had given him about having taken care of an amputee patient before she had tended to him had been nothing more than an excuse, and in reality, they had probably been dealing with a local criminal. His mind was racing as he was led through the lobby, wondering what they now planned to do with him.

After making their way down the narrow hall, Roman found himself brought to the very room he had expected, and he closed his eyes for a brief moment when the light that was turned on was nearly blinding. He then chanced a glance around the small space, seeing that it had been cleaned of all blood since he had been there that afternoon, though that was all that he could see since the image was now burned into his mind. Robert and Simon brought him over to the bed in the center of the room and forced him down onto it, the latter keeping a secure hold on him as the sheriff pulled leather straps out from under the thin mattress. Roman struggled against the other man, but Robert pulled the first of the straps over his chest and secured it so tightly that it aggravated the pain in his bruised torso. Simon then proceeded to secure the second strap around his waist while the sheriff secured the final one just below his knees, both chuckling as they watched their captive try to work his way out of the restraints.

"Well, boy, this will hold ya for a while," Robert stated, sharing a grin with the man with the bushy mustache who was standing beside him. "Our medical team will be with you shortly. And then you'll be sharing all you know with us, and we can get started on our hunt. Have a good night, Mr. Reigns."

Roman watched as the two older men left the room and disappeared down the dark hallway before a loud, frustrated sound escaped from him as he once more tried to fight his way out of the straps that secured him to the uncomfortable bed. He dreaded to think of what could possibly be in store for him now since there had been so much blood in the room before. His arms, which were still handcuffed behind his back, were already starting to ache and tingle with impending numbness as his sternum throbbed painfully, which he knew were two things that were only going to hinder him.

Finally, Roman sighed with defeat as he stopped fighting and rested his head back on the thin mattress beneath him. He continued to stare at the ceiling above him, willing his breathing and his heart rate to slow. He needed to think if he was going to find some way out of his situation, though he wasn't seeing any possibilities of escape. His gaze faltered as dread filled him once more. He had been so close to getting out of the town to go search for Seth and Dean, and he inwardly cursed himself. If only he had been a little quicker, left a little sooner, or even went a different way, then maybe he wouldn't be trapped in the clinic and would instead be going after his friends in the farmlands. But if Sheriff Perry wasn't planning to release him until the morning, he knew that no matter what, he would be too late to help them.

Then, he heard the front door of the clinic open, and Roman's heart plummeted as he started fighting against the straps that were restraining him again. His efforts increased when quick footsteps drew nearer, wincing when his arms protested to the straining motion. But still, he had no success.

However, the quiet voice he heard was not what he expected. "Roman?"

Roman paused, his dark eyes widening slightly as he looked up at the young blonde woman standing in the doorway. "Izzy?!"

The seventeen-year-old sighed with relief as she hurried into the room and approached the bed, immediately beginning to work at the strap that secured his chest. Roman watched her intently, his dark gaze quickly flitting to the door behind her. "How did you know I was here?" he asked her.

Isabella briefly glanced at him before pulling the first strap free. "Jackson was wakeful, and as I was putting him back to bed, I saw my dad and Perry dragging you out of the station," she answered, starting on the second strap around his waist. "I had a bad feeling they would bring you here..."

Roman slowly sat up when she freed the second one, wincing when his arms protested to the motion. "And... what were they going to do to me?"

"Believe me, Roman, it's better if you don't know," Isabella muttered as she got his legs free from the third and final restraint. "They have ways of making criminals talk..." She then pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and quickly unlocked the handcuffs from around his wrists, helping him pull his sore arms in front of him. "You need to get out of here, Roman. _Now_."

"How?" Roman wondered quietly, flexing his fingers to try to get a little bit of feeling back into his stiff muscles.

Isabella smiled slightly. "Just follow me," she told him. "I know the way out of here that will avoid the station, and even get you closer to Hawthorn Grove. Do you still have the map I gave you?"

Roman's heart nearly stopped at the question, and he quickly checked where he had slipped it in his pocket behind his cell phone. "Yes..." he said with a quiet sigh of relief. "Yes."

"Then come on." Isabella grabbed onto his arm and helped him up from the thin mattress before they both ran out of the room and back into the lobby before leaving the clinic. She led him down the dark street in the opposite direction of where the sheriff's station was, making sure to keep out of sight as much as possible. Roman was slightly confused since this path also brought them further away from the road that went in and out of town, and as far as he was aware, that was the only way to get out.

But then, Isabella ducked down a small alley in between two houses, and her older companion had a harder time sneaking through since the space was so narrow. Their route came to a stop at a wooden fence on a steep hill that overlooked the fields of swaying wheatgrass. At the bottom of the hill was a gravel path that wound out to the farmlands that laid beyond.

"This will bring you right out to Hawthorn Grove," the seventeen-year-old explained when Roman joined her at the fence. "It'll be the first farm you come to from this direction." She paused and looked up at him, sighing quietly when he met her gaze.

But then, they both quickly looked behind them when they heard raised, angry voices, and Roman instantly knew that someone must have discovered him missing from the clinic. Isabella's gaze faltered as she quickly wrapped her arms around him. "Your friends and family need you, Roman," she muttered as he lightly patted her back. "Just go and don't look back."

"I will." Roman pulled away from her with a small smile. "Thanks, Izzy. I owe ya big time."

Isabella chuckled. "Don't mention it. Just don't get caught," she repeated her earlier warning. Then, she stood on her toes and quickly kissed his cheek. "Good luck."

Roman nodded, easily jumping the fence before he started to make his way down the steep, grassy hill. He stumbled slightly about halfway down, rolling the rest of the way to the gravel path. Wincing slightly when he scraped his elbow, he quickly pushed himself to his feet and pulled the map out of his pocket, using the light from his cell phone to get a quick look at where he was going. Then, he quickly glanced over his shoulder up at the town when he heard the angry voices grow louder, watching as Isabella gave him an anxious look before she hurried away from the fence, and he stuffed both objects back in the pocket of his jeans before he took off running down the dark path as quickly as he could.

The hunt was about to start.

**Author's Note**: Well, that's it for this one! This game is officially going to be underway. How will it turn out for our three favorite Hounds of Justice? Well, we'll have to keep going to find out! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing associated with the WWE. Just any OCs!

**Summary**: After a car accident leaves them stranded in the middle of nowhere, the members of the Shield find themselves wrapped up in a deadly game where no one can be trusted but each other. But there is one catch– the game is intended for only one winner, and to lose is to die.

**Author's Note**: Hey, guys! Oh, man, I apologize for my bit of an absence. I have been incredibly busy since for one of my classes, I've started a project, of sorts, where I'm writing a profile essay on independent wrestling and those involved in it. Over the past week in particular, I've been conducting, transcribing, and compiling various interviews from the awesome people involved in independent wrestling (wrestlers, trainers, owners, etc) I've been in touch with so far, and it really hasn't left me much time for any of my stories. But, never fear, this story is still in the works! Um, but if anyone is interested in learning more in this project of epic proportions that I've gotten myself into, feel free to PM me, and I'll gladly talk with you more about it. It's been a crazy ride so far, and it's only going to get crazier as it continues, lol. But I'm looking forward to every minute of it. Anyway, moving onto this story, the hunt is about to begin! How will Dean, Seth, and Roman fare? Well, we'll have to see! Hope you enjoy!

_Chapter 9_

The sky steadily continued to lighten above them as the sun began its upward trek across the sky, and Dean sighed to himself as he cautiously continued to make his way along the wooden bridge that still creaked beneath his feet. His plan to hopefully find some sign of Roman before morning was slipping through his fingers, but that didn't mean that he was going to stop trying to look for him. It was just taking longer than he would have liked, but he knew it was a fact that could make all the difference. Time was certainly something that they did not have.

Dean glanced over his shoulder to check on how Seth was doing, and he let out a quiet breath when he saw that he was leaning heavier on the wooden railing than he had been before, his step also a bit more ginger. Even though his ribs had been wrapped the previous night, he had known that it was only going to be a matter of time before they started to act up and hinder his friend again. Seth, however, wasn't offering any complaints, and he suspected that he just didn't want to slow them down any more. They had stopped a couple times through the night, and it appeared as though it was time to do so again.

"All right, man. Let's take a couple minutes to relax," Dean said as he came to a stop and turned to face the other man.

Seth paused as well as he met his friend's gaze with a sigh. "Dean, I'm okay," he muttered. "We have to keep going and look for Roman..."

However, Dean was adamant as he gave a brief shake of his head. "Not until we've both had a bit of a rest," he told him, trying a bit of a different approach. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to feel the strain on his own body from the accident, being held captive, and being on the run, and it was beginning to wear him out. "Come on, Seth."

Seeing that he had no other choice, Seth nodded before he slowly lowered himself into a sitting position on the bridge and leaned back against the three-paneled railing behind him. Dean sat next to him but against the opposite railing, taking a long sip from one of his water bottles while his friend did the same. He then opened the bags that contained the lunch meat and fruit pieces they had taken since those were the food items that would have to be eaten first before grabbing two slices of wheat bread and tearing them in half to make makeshift sandwiches. He put a couple slices of lunch meat on each of the bread pieces before handing one to Seth, offering him some fruit as well. To his concern, the other man simply shook his head as he slowly began nibbling at the half a sandwich he had given him, and he had to wonder if his ribs were worse than he was letting on.

"It's a nice morning weather wise," Dean muttered, attempting to make some sort of conversation to try to ease some of the tension and distract them from the task at hand, even if it was just for a few minutes.

Seth nodded his agreement as he glanced at the trees around them. "It's going to get hotter once the sun is all the way up, though," he countered.

"Yeah..." Dean passed a hand through his lighter hair, taking a moment to simply listen to the river that was rushing beneath them. They had started to hear it a couple hours back, but now that they were directly over it, the roar was louder than ever. Since the other man wasn't touching them, and he wasn't making very fast progress on his sandwich, he ate a couple pieces of pineapple before he tried his own bread and lunch meat combination. It wasn't the greatest, but at least it was something to give them a bit of energy as they continued on to find their missing friend.

But then, his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked through the trees across from him on the bank of the river. They were starting to thin out, and for a moment, he thought he saw traces of a road. "Hey, Seth, I'll be right back, man," he said, finishing off his sandwich and brushing the excess crumbs off on his jeans before he started to push himself to his feet.

Seth looked up at him curiously. "Where are you going?" he wondered. "Want me to come with you?"

"No, it's okay. You stay here and eat," Dean replied. "I'm just gonna go ahead a little ways. It looks like we're finally almost at the end of this bridge, and there might be a road ahead."

"Didn't we want to avoid the road?" Seth took another small bite of his sandwich before gingerly reaching out and taking one piece of pineapple.

Dean chuckled. "That's why I'm just gonna see what's ahead to get an idea of where we're heading next. I'll be back soon," he assured him before he turned and continued his way along the bridge, holding onto the railings on either side of him as he tested his footing on each of the planks.

"Okay..." Seth watched the other man for a moment before he sighed and closed his eyes as he set the rest of his sandwich aside, placing his hand lightly over his side where his ribs were protesting to all of the strain before hunching over slightly when his stomach started to churn. He felt physically sick from the pain, though he reasoned it could also be from the lack of eating properly and walking around so much after being in a car wreck, and he had a feeling that Dean was aware that he wasn't telling him everything.

Further up the wooden path, Dean carefully turned the corner on the bridge, hesitating for a moment when the planks beneath him creaked a bit louder than before. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing that Seth was out of sight and at least wouldn't be concerned about what was going on, before he risked looking ahead of him to see that the end of the bridge was within his sights. Beyond that was a thin dirt path that wound a bit through the trees on either side of it and led to what appeared to be a narrow road. It was quiet, but he was aware that could easily be deceiving in this game that they were now being forced to play. Nodding slightly to himself, Dean took a small step back to return and tell the other man what he had found.

Suddenly, a loud _crack_ echoed through the still air as his right foot fell through a particularly worn spot of the bridge and was submerged in the frigid water beneath it. He winced when the skinned area around his ankle came in contact with the rushing river, anxiously trying to pull his leg out from where it was stuck in the planks. The only saving grace in this situation was that there wasn't a far drop into the water below, but it was so cold and the rapids were moving so swiftly that he knew it wouldn't take much for him to be swept along with it if he were to fall all the way in as his shoe was washed away.

The more he tried to free himself, however, the more strain was added to the already brittle bridge, and Dean cried out as more of the wood fell away from beneath him. He grabbed onto a plank out of desperation as he was submerged a little over waist deep in the river, clenching his jaw tightly as he tried to keep himself from being rushed away by the current. He struggled to pull himself back onto the bridge but kept being forced back by the water, and he took a deep breath just before he was yanked under completely. He hadn't had enough time to get substantial air into his lungs, and the coldness of the river shocked his system so that the little that was there was forced out. His grasping fingers continued to frantically try to keep a hold on the bridge above him as the rushing rapids threatened to take him, and he could feel his feeble grip starting to loosen.

Then, a pair of sturdy hands grabbed onto his arms just above his elbows and began to tug him upward. Dean coughed out some water as his head was forced above the surface, nearly choking as air rushed back into his lungs. He blinked repeatedly in attempt to clear his eyes of the icy water as his torso was dragged up onto the bridge, and he planted his hands securely on the wooden planks as he helped to pull himself the rest of the way out of the water. For a moment, he couldn't move, and he closed his eyes tightly as he continued to lie in the spot where he had collapsed to try to catch his breath. He started to shiver as the cool, gentle breeze rushed over him, and after coughing out a little more water, he raised his gaze to the man sitting against the railing beside him.

"Seth... what the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Dean demanded. "I could have... gotten out myself..."

Unfazed by his temper, Seth simply smiled in return before he laughed a little at the sight of his friend drenched from head to foot. It was a small action he paid for, and he winced and closed his eyes as he set his hand over his ribs. "Yeah... that's why I... had to save your ass..." he said in nearly a whisper.

"You're a fucking idiot..." Dean continued to grumble under his breath as he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. His eyes narrowed, however, when Seth began to slump over at the same time, and he quickly reached out and caught him by his shoulders. His heart dropped when he saw how ashen the other man's face had turned, tightening his hold on him as his body started to go limp.

"Seth! Look at me, man." He heatedly cursed when he got no answer, further concerned when he could hardly hear him breathing. The strain of pulling him out of the river had been detrimental to his ribs. "You shouldn't have done that..."

A painfully long moment passed before Seth's dark eyes fluttered opened and his weary gaze met his worried one, and Dean's eyes narrowed further when his friend's face paled even more as he lowered his head and began coughing forcefully. Realizing he could be sick, he quickly helped the ailing man to lean over the gaping hole in the bridge and pulled his long, two-toned hair back as he held him up. Seth continued to dry heave for a few more agonizing moments while Dean kept a steady hand on his back, but nothing came up as his coughing fit slowly passed. There wasn't much in his stomach, he knew, and it was concerning to him just how weak he was.

After waiting for another minute or so just to make sure, and after listening to him struggle to get air, Dean carefully pulled Seth back up into a sitting position and gently leaned him back against the railing behind him, sighing when he saw his friend's face was just about drained of color and glistened with a thin layer of sweat. "Seth... you need to tell me _exactly _how bad your ribs are," he murmured when the other man started to shake slightly. "And don't give me any bullshit about how they're 'not that bad.' Believe me, I'll know."

At first, he received no response. Then, Seth's eyes slowly opened, and Dean saw that they were brighter than they should have been and were somewhat disoriented, but he still attempted to give him a small smile. "... Well... my ribs were... getting painful when we stopped... Almost felt like... something had moved..." he explained, watching as his friend leaned a bit closer to hear him better. "Now... I can hardly breathe... the pain's so... intense..."

Dean sighed, passing a stressed hand over his face as Seth's eyes closed again. That's what he had been afraid of since the other man had been showing signs that something was wrong, and the fact that it felt like something had moved around his rib area wasn't a good sign. He knew Seth wouldn't be going anywhere for a while, and they were already losing precious time. He slowly sat back down on the bridge, and a small smirk appeared on his face despite himself when he saw that he hadn't previously noticed his second shoe had also been lost to the current. At this point, another obstacle should have been expected. But also knowing that his soaked socks were only going to be a hindrance, Dean leaned forward and pulled them both off before balling them up and tossing them into the river. He would have to go barefoot, and now, at least, he had no excuse not to buy a new pair of shoes, which he had been planning on doing anyway.

Then, dread flooded through him when he realized that other things could have been lost as well, and he quickly checked to see if his weapons were where he had left them. Dean let out a long sigh of relief when the pocketknife and handgun were in their proper places as was his phone, though he had the feeling that would be ruined beyond repair. He glanced over at Seth, and his light gaze faltered when he saw that the other man appeared as though he was quickly losing his hold on his consciousness.

"Hey, man, I'm gonna go grab the rest of our supplies, and then we'll decide what to do," he muttered, lightly patting him on the shoulder. Seth jumped a bit, slightly startled by the action, before he met his gaze and nodded. Dean smiled slightly as he pushed himself to his feet, grasping the railing tightly as he carefully stretched out his leg to step over the hole in the bridge. He sighed quietly, almost in defeat, as he proceeded with caution toward where they had stopped to rest. The crushing reality of the situation at hand had never been as evident as it had been in the past few minutes. He knew Roman wouldn't stand a chance wherever he was as soon as the wanted posters Peter had shown them were distributed, and Seth had spent a lot of his much-needed strength helping him. He could have screamed with the frustration that was tearing at him from the inside out, but he refrained. Roman was a goner if they couldn't reach him, and Seth was slipping through his fingers as well. He had never felt so helpless.

When he reached the spot where they had decided to camp out for a short time and eat, Dean hurried forward at a bit of a quicker pace when he saw a few blackbirds had gathered and were picking at some of the bread and fruit. He shooed them away before gathering up their already minimal food supply, his gaze faltering when he saw that Seth had hardly touched the half a sandwich he had made for him, and made sure all the bags were closed securely. He then picked up their four water bottles, not really paying too much attention to whose was whose since it was the least of his concerns at the moment, and began walking back toward where he had left his friend. He could hear forceful coughing when he drew closer, and Dean hurried forward around the corner to see Seth hunched over the hole in the bridge once again, his breathing quick and ragged as he splashed some of the cold water of the river on his pale face with slightly shaking hands.

Sighing, Dean once again made it to the other side of the bridge where the other man was and crouched down beside him before he unscrewed the lid on one of the previously opened bottles. "Here, man, take a sip of this," he muttered, offering it out to him.

Seth slowly looked over and met his gaze, giving him a feeble smile as he reached out and took the bottle from him, cautiously taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid before leaning back against the railing behind him. "Thanks..."

Dean just nodded, sighing as he set the bags of food aside and sat down next to him. Wanting to give Seth a little more time to regain some strength, he pulled out the pocketknife and handgun he had taken from the deputy and began to check them over to make sure they were still in working order. He looked at the switchblade first as he opened it, shaking the small weapon a bit to clear it of excess water before he turned his attention to the firearm. Some water dripped out of the barrel, and Dean sighed as he began to look it over to figure out how to correctly take it apart to see the extent of the damage.

Seth raised an eyebrow as he watched the other man, who was slightly startled when a piece broke apart. "Do... you know... what you're doing?" he asked in a voice hardly above a whisper.

Chuckling quietly, Dean shook the weapon a bit to dump a little more water out. "We're about to find out," he answered when he saw that only one bullet was gone from the clip, which he had used to shoot the deputy that had nearly killed them. "What I'm not sure about is how much damage can be done to an automatic like this when wet..."

"I wouldn't know either..." Seth watched as the other man shook the clip as dry as he could before putting it back and trying to make sure that everything was secure.

Dean stared down at the gun for a long moment before he sighed. "I would test it, but I don't know if anyone's around..." He glanced at his friend with a small smirk. "And neither one of us are in the best shape to be discovered."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Seth's face. "No... we certainly are not..." he agreed quietly.

Setting the gun aside, Dean turned to fully face his friend. "So, how are the bandages that Peter wrapped you up in?" he wondered. "Still holding?"

Clear hesitance appeared in Seth's features as he lowered his gaze. "They're... a bit looser..." he admitted.

Dean's light gaze faltered. "Seth... why didn't you say anything before?" he pressed. "I could have tightened them."

Seth sighed. "I didn't want to... slow us down..." he told him. "We had to... find Roman..."

"You still should have told me!" Dean snapped, though it was unintentional. "It wouldn't have made much of a difference to take a couple minutes to tighten the fucking bandages!" He watched as the other man simply stared at him before looking away, and he passed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, man... I'm just... I'm so sick of this entire fucking situation, and I know how much stress I'm under isn't an excuse to take it out on you since you're under the same stress, but..."

When Seth really gave no reply other than a slight nod, he let out a defeated breath. "Here, let me tighten them before we keep going," he offered.

His friend met his gaze before he lifted his shirt slightly, and Dean noticed that the bandages were hanging a bit looser around his midsection. Sighing, he leaned forward a bit and found where Peter had tied them and quickly undid it before he started pulling them a bit tighter. "Let me know if they're too tight or too painful."

Seth winced while the other man worked before he nodded. "I will," he muttered, taking another small sip from his water bottle. "But they have to be... pretty tight to hold..."

Dean nodded his agreement. "Yeah, I just don't want these to be so tight that they're making it harder for you to breathe or something," he told him, wrapping the last of the bandage around Seth's slender frame. "That good? Too tight or anything?"

"No, they're fine," Seth assured him. He smirked when he saw Dean raise an eyebrow in his direction. "I'm not just saying that..."

"All right, Rollins, I believe you." Dean couldn't help but chuckle quietly as he tied off the bandages before the other man lowered his shirt again. "And, uh, thanks for getting me out of the river, by the way."

Seth's smirk broadened slightly into a smile as he nodded. "No problem, Ambrose," he said. "I'm glad I was able to... Did you get hurt falling through the bridge?"

Dean shook his head. "No, not really," he replied, lifting up the right leg of his jeans and revealing the cut and skinned area around his ankle. "I just got that since that was what went through."

The other man narrowed his eyes slightly. "Some of those are pretty deep," he commented. "Probably should be tended."

"Yeah, well, I also need stitches in my cheek," Dean countered. "So, like that, I'm not gonna worry about it now. We have more pressing matters to attend to."

Seth nodded. "Like finding Roman," he stated.

Dean gazed at his friend for a moment before he slowly nodded. Even though it was the last thought he wanted to have, he couldn't help but start to think that they were going to be too late for the man in question. It was morning, and he was sure the posters were being distributed if they hadn't been already. He knew Roman was a tough guy, but he didn't see how he could fare well against an entire town out for his head.

"Yeah..."

Seeming to guess his thoughts, Seth sighed as he glanced at where the end of the bridge led to the winding dirt path and the narrow road beyond. But also like Dean, he knew that they couldn't give up on Roman when there was still a slight chance that he could still be alive. "I think I'm ready to get going."

Dean looked back at him. "Are you sure, man?" he asked. "I mean, you took some heavy damage to your ribs saving my ass..."

Seth let out a quiet chuckle before he winced. "I don't think they're going to get much better if we wait, Dean," he answered. "I'd rather be trying to find Roman in pain instead of just sitting around in pain."

"If you're sure..." Dean muttered. "But before we go, at least finish your half of a sandwich." He held up the bag he had put it in along with the rest of the bread.

Hesitance crossed Seth's face. "Maybe a little later... I don't think I could hold it down right now."

Dean sighed with concern. The fact that his friend wasn't able to eat much was worrisome, but he quickly covered those thoughts with a hint of a smirk. "Next time we stop, I'm going to make you finish it, just to let you know," he told him. "I'll shove it down your throat myself if I have to."

Seth returned the look. "I'm sure you will." He then grabbed onto the wooden railing behind him before he started to try to pull himself to his feet.

"Here, let me help." Dean quickly stood before winding his arm behind his friend's back, helping to slowly raise him into a standing position. He sighed quietly when he saw the clear pain on his face, which also lost a little color as he closed his eyes and took a moment to try to catch his breath.

"All right," Seth finally said a couple minutes later, his voice faltering slightly. "Let's go..."

Still unsure about whether it was a good idea or not, Dean realized he had no choice when his friend slowly began to limp his way toward the end of the bridge. He easily caught up with him and grabbed his arm, nodding slightly in return to the small smile Seth gave him as he wound it around his neck before wrapping his other arm around his waist to help him along. The other man took more of the food bags and water bottles since he had an extra free hand, and they soon found themselves on the short dirt path that wound through the trees. They were both just glad to leave the rickety bridge behind them.

"Stay here for a minute," Dean suddenly muttered when the narrow road loomed nearer. "I'm gonna check it out."

Seth nodded his agreement, and Dean helped him to lean back against a tree for support before he cautiously proceeded to where the road ran perpendicular to the path they were on. He cautiously stepped onto the asphalt that appeared as though it hadn't been paved in years and looked both to his left and right to see that it was empty and eerily silent.

"All right, I think if we..." Dean began, but he paused when the sudden sound of squealing tires reached his ears. His light eyes widened slightly when a police car that he was almost certain was driven by Jim turned the corner from the direction of Peter's church and sped directly toward him. He strongly suspected that the deputy and the officer with him hadn't left the area at all and had simply been waiting for them to appear.

"Fuck!" Dean quickly turned back onto the dirt path and hurried over to where Seth was leaning heavily against the tree for support. "Come on, we've gotta go!"

Seth winced when his friend started to pull on his arm before he resisted. "Wait... Dean, wait..."

"We don't have time, Seth!" Dean said anxiously. "The partner of that deputy I killed is gonna be here any second. He was waiting for us!"

However, Seth continued to resist. "Wait..." he muttered again. "I won't get anywhere fast. Just... just leave me here..."

Dean paused and stared at his friend in horror. "What the fuck?! I'm not just gonna leave you here, Seth!" he told him. "They'll kill you!"

Seth chuckled quietly, causing him to set a hand over his ribs. "That's... not exactly what I had in mind..."

"Then what..." Dean began, but then realization dawned on him, and he tightened his hold on the gun he had. "Oh! I think I know what you're saying... You want me to ambush them." When the other man nodded, he sighed. "I don't know if it's a good idea to leave you back here like that..."

"If you manage to catch them off guard, it'll be fine... Just go." Seth attempted to give him an encouraging smile, and Dean nodded when he again found himself having no other choice before he ran into the trees on the side of the path, wincing slightly when he stepped on rocks and sharp twigs with his bare feet. He heard the car doors of the police car slam, and he cursed heatedly under his breath. He understood his friend's plan to turn this game around on the officers, but he wasn't too fond of it. There was so much that could go wrong with it, and he was certain that Seth was aware of those risks as well.

But then, Dean stopped when he heard a twig _snap_ from in front of him, and he saw another figure that he couldn't quite make out running through the trees in their direction. Was there another officer Jim had with him that they weren't aware of? If that was the case, they were in more trouble than they realized...

He quickly looked around before ducking into a small hollow at the base of a tree, hoping that he hadn't been seen. Dean craned his neck when he heard the familiar cold laughter of Jim, barely able to see as he and the other officer slowly walked toward where Seth was carefully backing away from them. He set his water bottle down and made sure that his gun was ready to shoot before he pulled the switchblade out of his pocket. Preparing to launch an ambush of his own, Dean slowly started to rise to his feet, first checking around the trunk of the tree he was hiding behind to make sure that the third man wasn't anywhere around. Seeing no one, he started to make his way back in the direction of where Seth was before he quickly turned around with his gun raised when a pair of strong hands landed on his shoulders.

* * *

Hawthorn Grove had been a dead end.

Roman sighed as he followed the map that Isabella had given him through the dense trees as the sun continued on its upward trek. He had found the abandoned farm the night before, and he had checked every shed that he could get into and even the house that was still on the property. However, there had been no sign of Seth or Dean. The only things he had found that proved they had been there at all were two cut ropes and dark blood stains on the floor of a small, underground room in one of the sheds, which he assumed belonged to the deputy that Sheriff Perry had told him his friends had killed. His only consolation was that he was on the right track.

But now, he was feeling more lost than ever as he continued to try to make his way along the path that had been lined out for him, even with the map. Roman remembered that Isabella had mentioned something about a church, and had even pointed out the general area on the map, but the only problem was that he was having a difficult time finding it in the middle of nowhere.

The narrow path he was walking on soon came to an end, and he was slightly concerned that he really hadn't seen the river that the seventeen-year-old had told him to stay close to either. Roman cursed heatedly under his breath as he passed a hand over his face and started to look around him. Though the map he had was helpful, it probably would have been even more beneficial if he was somewhat familiar with the area. He then noticed that the path he had been following slanted upward slightly, and he hurried forward with a little more hope.

When he reached the top of the hill, Roman saw that a vast clearing with a line of trees on one side and a much steeper hill on the other stretched out before him. At the top of that hill were three crosses, the middle one standing a bit taller than the other two, and he started to look around anxiously. The church had to be close. He started forward at a quick jog, briefly glancing down at the map as he went. To the best of his knowledge, it seemed that he was still on the right path. When he raised his gaze again, he saw that a one-story white building with a brown slanted roof and trim was sitting in a clump of trees ahead. A smaller building that was the same colors was connected to the larger one, and Roman's heart leapt slightly when he saw the steeple on the first building. He had found it.

He sped his pace slightly to reach it faster, but then he slowed to a stop as he stepped onto a small gravel parking lot when he saw that a man with white hair wearing a black robe was kneeling in the grass beside the front door of the church, humming quietly to himself as he tended to some light purple flowers under the window. He remembered Isabella mentioning that the priest who ran the church, he couldn't remember his name, could possibly help him, but what if this wasn't him? With the way things had been going since he had arrived, he really didn't trust anyone in this town.

Hearing his footsteps against the gravel, however, the white-haired man looked up from what he was doing, and a small smile appeared on his aged face. Despite his outwardly friendly demeanor, Roman still took a few cautious steps back, watching as the other man rose a hand in a peaceful gesture.

"You must be Roman. I am glad to see that you are relatively unhurt."

Roman's eyes narrowed slightly. "How do you know my name?" he asked, instantly suspicious of this man.

The priest slowly and carefully rose to his feet, his smile lingering as he turned to the younger man. "Your friends told me," he answered. "And I saw your picture on one of those wanted posters that I'm sure have been distributed by now..."

Despite the speculation about this man he still had, Roman felt a surge of relief he hadn't had since arriving in this backwards town. It was the first real confirmation that his friends had to be somewhat close by and were at least alive. "You... you've seen Seth and Dean?" he wondered, taking a small step closer.

"Yes," the priest confirmed with a nod, his smile broadening slightly. "They stayed in my home for some time, where they rested and had some of their injuries tended to. They're not in the best shape, but I did what I was able to for them." He paused for a moment. "They left my house sometime in the night. I am certain they went to look for you."

Roman couldn't help but smile slightly himself. Seth and Dean were alive, and from what the older man was saying, somewhat rested and taken care of. But what concerned him was that he still didn't know the full extent of their injuries. "Thank God..."

The older man chuckled quietly as he walked over to join his visitor in the gravel parking lot. "My name is Peter," he continued in a friendly manner.

"Peter?" Roman repeated. When the priest nodded in the affirmative, he sighed with relief. "Isabella told me about you... She said you could possibly help me."

A broad smile returned to Peter's face. "Ah, so _that_ is how you managed to make it here while you were stuck in that town," he said. "She is a good girl who has a kind heart."

Roman nodded his agreement. "I wouldn't have survived if it hadn't been for her," he replied.

"Then I'm sure you know what is going on in this town," Peter muttered, his gaze faltering. When Roman slowly nodded, he sighed. "Isabella never liked what her brother and the other officers did that night one year ago. But it's gotten out of control..."

"She told me the whole story," Roman told him in a low tone. "Which is why I need to find my friends as soon as possible. Do you have any idea where they could have gone?"

Peter gazed at him for a moment before he looked down at the map that the younger man held. "Well, there are two paths away from here that do not go back in the direction that your friends came from," he explained, lightly running a wrinkled finger over the line that Isabella had drawn. "This here is a river that runs into this town along the main road." He paused and pointed across the parking lot to where a sparkling pond sat, fed by a river that wound through the trees. "The road is one path they could have taken, but I'm not sure they would have because Isabella's brother is out patrolling this area to look for them. The other is an old bridge that goes through the trees over here."

Roman scanned the area as the older man spoke, his gaze passing over the wide gravel path that led away from the parking lot to what he assumed to be the main road before moving to where the start of the bridge must have been. "Yeah, I met Jim back when I was in town..." he muttered absently before he glanced back at the priest. "You think they took the bridge?"

"It's likely," Peter confirmed.

"Well, then that's the route I'll take," Roman said with a small smile. "Thank you for your help."

However, he paused when Peter set a hand on his arm. "You will probably not catch up with your friends that way," he cautioned. "The bridge winds through those trees, which is the longer way, while the road is a much more direct path. They merge about half a mile up, and with the condition Seth and Dean are in, they will probably be going at a much slower pace. If you stay in the trees alongside the road, you could avoid being seen by Jim and the officer with him, and you'll be more likely to meet up with your friends than if you followed them on the bridge."

Roman nodded before his eyes narrowed slightly. "Their condition?" he pressed. "How bad is it?"

Peter sighed. "I wish they would have stayed in my home longer. They were not nearly rested enough," he muttered. "Dean needs some stitches in his cheek, and he suffered some head trauma, though I do not think it's too severe. His jaw could also potentially be cracked. As for Seth, it would seem that he got the worst of the accident since he has one broken rib, and there are a couple others that are cracked or possibly even broken as well."

Cursing heatedly under his breath, Roman slowly passed a stressed hand over his face. He had to wonder how Seth and Dean had gotten as far as they had in the condition they were in after the accident, but he also knew that his friends were tough, especially since they now had to be to survive. But he also knew that he had to find them soon.

"Why don't you come inside for a little while, Roman?" Peter suggested when the younger man didn't say anything. "Rest for a bit, have something to eat, and I can look at the injuries you sustained."

However, Roman shook his head. "Thank you, but I got stitches back in town," he told him. "I'll be fine. And I would stay, but I really don't have much time if–!"

Suddenly, the loud sound of squealing tires reached their ears. Roman and Peter quickly turned toward the parking lot where the noise had come from, and the former jogged along the gravel path, ignoring the priest's call from behind him, until he came to a narrow road that appeared as though it hadn't been paved in years, knowing it must have been the single way in and out of the town he had been stuck in. His eyes widened slightly when he saw that a police car, which he assumed had been sitting nearby since it had been patrolling the area, was speeding down the road toward something he couldn't see before coming to a stop where he assumed half a mile ahead would roughly be. Clearly, the officers had caught sight of something.

Then, remembering what Peter had told him about the movements of his friends and that Jim had been searching for them, Roman hurried into the trees along the side of the road and began to run through them, pushing his way through low-hanging branches and jumping over tall tree roots. If the deputy had been waiting for any sign of Seth and Dean, there was a pretty good chance that he had just found what he had been searching for.

But then, Roman slowed his pace slightly when he saw a figure in the trees ahead of him that he couldn't quite make out, and he quickly hid behind the nearest tree on his left, hoping that he hadn't been seen. He didn't want to grasp onto any false hopes in this situation, but if his friends really were somewhere up ahead, he wouldn't be of any help to them if he got caught himself.

After waiting for another moment, Roman snuck a glance out from behind the tree again, seeing that it appeared as though whoever he had seen before was coming out of a hiding spot as well. His eyes widened slightly when something metallic in his hand caught the early morning sunlight, realizing it was a handgun. But if he was able to catch him off guard, he could possibly overpower him and even steal the weapon, which he could use to aid him and his friends when he did reach them in this twisted game of life and death they now found themselves in.

Taking a deep breath, Roman rose to his feet and cautiously began to make his way through the trees, setting his jaw tightly and keeping his intense gaze set straight ahead as he made his way toward the unsuspecting man.

**Author's Note**: Well, there you have it! Seth's not in good shape, and Dean and Roman are each caught in tense situations of their own. How will it progress? We'll have to keep going to find out! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing associated with the WWE. Just any OCs!

**Summary**: After a car accident leaves them stranded in the middle of nowhere, the members of the Shield find themselves wrapped up in a deadly game where no one can be trusted but each other. But there is one catch– the game is intended for only one winner, and to lose is to die.

**Author's Note**: Hey, guys! I really appreciate all your support and feedback for this story! And thank you for your continued patience. The next few weeks for me are going to be incredibly busy, so I'll update when I can! I just wanna make a quick note about this chapter. My plan from the beginning was to really focus on making this a psychological story besides just the horror elements that it's been so far. Though there have been hints of this up until now, this chapter is really the turning point where the psychological spin really starts coming into effect. With that said, hope you enjoy!

_Chapter 10_

Seth slowly backed away from the officers who were making their way toward him, his hand over his protesting side as he continued to glance over his shoulder to make sure he was staying on the narrow dirt path. He quickly looked back at the two men in front of him when the dark-haired one chuckled, a smirk appearing at the corner of his lips.

"Some friend you have there, outsider," Stan stated. "Leaving you behind like this."

The blond-haired deputy laughed a little himself. "And in such condition, too," Jim added in a sneering tone. "Such a shame. But I can't blame your friend for leaving you here since that's what all of you always do. You see, you learn a lot about what's truly important in this little game of ours, as well as about who you really are. All that's really important to any of you is yourself. We see it time and time again. The weakest member of the group is always the first to go because when it comes down to it, the stronger ones will abandon them in favor of preserving their own lives. Then, in this case, those two will end up turning on the other just to survive. That's when one of them wins the game, you see, but at what price? Yes, they have their life, but they also have to live with the realization of how much of a monster they really are."

Seth stumbled a little before he set a hand on a tree next to him for support when the sudden severe pain in his ribs caused him to pause. He took as deep of a breath as he was allowed and blinked a few times in attempt to clear his blurring vision before glancing at the clump of trees on his right. He was starting to reconsider their plan to ambush the officers. He had been fully aware of the risks when he had suggested it, of course, since the two men could have decided to kill him instantly, and he realized he was fortunate that they had decided to taunt him first.

But surprisingly, he couldn't stop the thought that Dean really was abandoning him to his fate from creeping into his mind. After all, his broken ribs were only going to hold his friend back, and since the other man hadn't suffered too many serious injuries in the accident, he would get a lot further and probably survive without having to drag him along with him.

However, Seth shook his head. He had known Dean for years since they had both been chasing their dreams, and he didn't think that he would just leave him behind to die. At least, that's what he hoped.

Jim's smirk broadened. "You're starting to question the loyalty you had with your friends, aren't you?" he asked. "I can see it in your eyes, outsider. That's what this game does. It makes you realize things about yourself and others, things that you didn't want to believe. But, fortunately for you, you won't be here to see the continuing deterioration of the friend who abandoned you." He glanced at the man beside him and nodded.

Stan glanced down and pulled his handgun off his belt, making sure it was loaded. Jim chuckled. "This is for my partner," the latter muttered.

Seth's dark eyes widened slightly when the dark-haired officer pointed the weapon directly at him before he glanced around to see if there was anywhere safe he could get to quickly. But with his ribs in the condition they were in, there wasn't much that he could do. He turned back to the two officers, and just like the first time he was faced with certain death, he wasn't able to reflect on the past twenty-seven years that he had lived. He winced slightly and wrapped an arm around his midsection, and he felt his body tense as he anticipated the feel of the bullet tearing through the many layers of his skin, his muscles and tendons, and even his bones with ease. It was cowardly, he realized, but at that moment, he didn't care as the pulsating pain in his ribs caused him to slowly sink to his knees and lean back against the tree behind him for support. He had to wonder if his impending death would be instant or slow and filled with agony, but from what he knew of the officers, he wouldn't have been surprised if they chose the latter. How he would now die was in their hands.

Quiet chuckling reached his ears. "Look at him."

"I think he's going to beg for his life. Pretty pathetic..."

Despite their taunting, Seth simply set his jaw and kept his eyes closed, not wanting to dignify their words with a response. It just wasn't worth it since they were going to kill him anyway. Besides, begging was something he had never done, and it wasn't something he was going to do now. He still had some dignity that he wanted to hold onto, and aside from that, he just didn't have the strength anymore. Pulling Dean out of the rapids had taken most of his already minimal energy, and though it was something he had willingly given up, he was just in too much pain and too weary to continue with the twisted game they were now being forced to play.

"It won't do any good, outsider. Though it's too bad your friend decided to leave you here," Jim muttered. "I'm sure he would have loved to see you like this." He then turned to Stan beside him with a nod. "Go ahead. Then we'll only have two to worry about."

The dark-haired officer smirked, slowly beginning to pull back on the trigger.

Seth's stomach tightened to the point where it was painful. _Dean_. He was starting to hope that the other man wouldn't return after all since it was too late. He didn't want him to be there when his life slipped away, and he couldn't stand the thought that his friend could possibly be killed as well if he were to come back now. The best thing for him to do would be to stay hidden wherever he was and continue on to try to find Roman. Maybe then his two friends could figure out a way to escape from this town, and that was something he could live with and could die knowing. He let out a low breath, knowing all he could do now was wait for the inevitable.

However, the gunshot never came.

"Don't even think about it."

Surprised by the sudden familiar voice, Seth's eyes snapped open as a startled look appeared on Stan's face when he felt the hard barrel of another handgun against the back of his head. Jim chuckled as he glanced over at the other officer before his gaze moved to the man who was standing behind him.

"Well, well. If it isn't Dean," the deputy muttered as he pulled his own handgun off his belt. "I have to say, I'm actually surprised that you showed up here. From what we've seen, that doesn't happen very often..."

Dean's light eyes narrowed as he pushed his firearm with a bit more force into the back of Stan's head. "Put that away!" he demanded. "I swear to God, I'm not afraid to put one in the back of his skull!"

Jim, however, chuckled despite the hesitance that crossed the dark-haired officer's face. "You really don't see the whole picture here, do you, outsider?" he wondered. "There are two of us and only one of you. Now, why don't you put that away before you or your friend get hurt, okay?"

Surprisingly, Dean smirked in return and kept his gun exactly where it was. "You really think I'm that stupid? And here I thought you guys were supposed to be good at this game! That's rather disappointing, Jim. Very disappointing, as a matter of fact."

The blond man's eyes darkened as he started to raise his weapon. "What the hell are you..." he began, but his sentence slowly trailed off when the cold blade of a pocketknife appeared in front of his throat from behind.

"I would do what he says if I were you," a low voice murmured from close to his ear.

Jim began to lower his gun before he paused, a quiet, nervous laugh escaping from him. "So, you managed to get all the way out here from town, huh?" he asked. "How did you do that?"

"Well, I don't think that's really any of your business, Jim," Roman continued as a small smirk appeared at the corner of his lips. "The fact of the matter is, I'm here. And I would tell your friend to put his gun away like Dean said. Let's just say that it would be in your best interest."

Jim hesitated for a moment, his gaze faltering as he turned to Stan and gave him a curt nod. The dark-haired officer looked back at him in disbelief before he realized his answer wasn't going to change, and he slowly put the gun back on his belt. The blond man, however, was not so ready to cooperate.

Dean eyed the metallic weapon that the deputy still held, narrowing his eyes as he pushed his own gun just a bit closer to the back of Stan's had. "What did I say?" he snapped. "Put the fucking gun away, or I'll–!"

What his threat was supposed to be, no one would ever know. In the blink of an eye, Jim pushed Roman's arm that held the knife away from his throat, turned around, and fired, causing the bigger man to stumble back, startled, when a bullet skimmed across his toned shoulder. Stan then proceeded to elbow Dean forcefully in the stomach twice, causing him to nearly lose his hold on his weapon, before pulling out his own gun. With the other man still unsteady, the officer fired at Seth, who was still sitting against the tree, so at least they could still have one of the outsiders taken care of before Jim grabbed his arm and began to run for their squad car.

"We found the outsiders! All three of them!" the blond-haired deputy said anxiously into his walkie-talkie, which was connected with the sheriff's station, as he started to open the driver's side door. "We're out by the church near the river!"

Sheriff Perry's cold tone crackled trough the small receiver. _"Copy that. We'll be out there soon."_

Jim put the small device back on his belt and started to step into the car before a cry of pain escaped from him when a bullet sunk into the back of his thigh. A few more shots were fired, one bullet shattering the window, a couple bouncing off the hood, and a couple more puncturing the front tire and allowing all the air to escape. The light-haired deputy tried to stand, but he was prevented from doing so when Dean, his breathing heavy, pulled him away from the car and threw him to the ground. He then stomped on his wrist hard with his bare foot, causing him to drop his gun, before he picked up the second metallic weapon and held it tightly. He glanced up when Stan left the passenger seat and aimed his gun at him, looking away again when Roman managed to tackle him to the ground and take the firearm from his loosened grasp.

"You say _we're_ the monsters?! _You're _the fucking monsters!" Dean screamed, raising one of the guns he had and using it to smash the back window next to him. "Look at what you did to us! We did nothing to you! _Nothing_! _You _fucking run us off the road, and you trap us in this fucking sick, twisted situation where we're meant to die! _You're _the fucking animals! Not us!"

Surprisingly, Jim chuckled in response as he shook his head slightly. "Dean, Dean, Dean. I'm starting to see I was wrong about the three of you," he muttered, causing the man in question to narrow his eyes dangerously. "I take back what I said to your friend Seth. He's not the weakest one in your group. You are, Dean, I can see that now. You're already starting to lose yourself. And that will end up costing you your life first."

Dean's face darkened as he raised the gun again. "I'm not fucking weak like you!" Then, he fired two shots.

Roman winced, staring at his friend with wide eyes. He had just killed a man. It was something he never thought Dean would be capable of doing, but in their current situation, he knew it was either kill or be killed. He then glanced down at Stan when he started chuckling himself.

"Even if you kill us, outsiders, there will be more after your heads," he cautioned them. "Plenty more. You won't be able to escape. Some are even on their way here as we speak."

"Shut up!" Roman demanded, raising the gun he had stolen from the officer a little and aiming it at him. "You are in no position to talk, so I would advise you to keep your mouth shut before I do it for you."

The dark-haired man smirked. "Do you even have the nerve to fire that gun?" he wondered. "Can you take a life if it means saving your own or your friends' lives for just a little bit longer?"

Roman clenched his jaw as he tightened his hold on the gun he held. "Don't make me..." he began, but he was interrupted when another shot rang out, causing Stan to collapse limply to the ground. He looked over the squad car, seeing that Dean was slowly lowering his gun and staring blankly at both of the bodies. A long moment passed before he raised his gaze to the larger man, and Roman, for the first time, saw uncertainty in his light eyes.

"I... I had to, Roman..." he murmured, his tone faltering. "I had no choice... They would have killed us first if... if I didn't... If not them, then someone else... But they... they were going to kill Seth..."

A quiet breath escaped from Roman as he briefly dropped his head and closed his eyes, passing a hand over his face. "I know... And at least we all have guns now..." But then, his eyes snapped open again. "Fuck! Seth!"

The oldest member of The Shield ran around the car and passed by Dean toward where the youngest still hadn't moved from where he was leaning against the tree, leaving the other man standing by the two dead officers and staring at the damage he had caused as though he was seeing it for the first time. Roman's heart dropped when he saw that Seth's head was drooping forward onto his chest, instantly fearful that the bullet Stan had fired in his direction had hit its mark. He dropped down to his knees in front of him before he reached out and grabbed both of his arms.

"Hey! Seth! Come on, man, look at me..." He shook him a couple times, praying to get some sort of response.

Then, Roman breathed a sigh of relief when he heard a quiet groan come from the other man, and Seth slowly raised his head and met his gaze with his own disoriented one. Disbelief crossed his face. "Were you hit?" the larger man pressed anxiously when he saw that his friend was at least alert, checking for any signs of bleeding. "Seth, were you shot?"

Seth shook his head in silent answer before relief of his own made itself known in his features. "R-Roman?" he asked quietly, his tone cracking slightly.

A smile appeared on Roman's face as he nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, Seth, it's me," he answered.

The two-toned man gazed at him for a moment longer before he leaned away from the tree and wrapped his arms around him. "Thank God you're okay..." Seth muttered. "We were starting to think the worst..."

Roman's smile lingered as he hugged his younger friend back, careful of his ribs since he remembered that's where Peter had said Seth had suffered the most damage. "I'm all right," he assured him. "I had some help getting out of that place and finding you guys... I'm just not sure what we're gonna do now."

Seth slowly pulled away, giving him a knowing look before he winced and leaned back against the tree with a little help. Roman looked back at him with concern, knowing that the other man's condition was going to make things difficult for him and Dean. He hadn't realized the extent of the damage that he had suffered.

Then, the oldest Shield member glanced over his shoulder when he heard approaching footsteps, watching as Dean slowly reached them. His light gaze landed on Seth first, seeing that he was okay, before he set both of the guns he had down and hurried over to where the rickety bridge was placed over the river. Roman leaned around the tree to keep an eye on their third teammate, his eyes narrowing slightly when he watched Dean kneel on the bank before his body started to shake.

"I'll be right back," he said, turning his attention back to Seth. "Will you be okay here?"

Seth nodded, concern for their friend clear in his eyes. Roman pushed himself to his feet and slowly walked over to where Dean was splashing some of the cold water on his face.

"Are you..." he began, but his inquiry slowly trailed off when the younger man suddenly leaned forward more as he was violently sick. Roman sighed, deciding to give Dean his space until he was finished losing the contents of his stomach to the roaring rapids.

Soon, the leader of The Shield was reduced to only dry heaving when there was nothing left to come up, and those were quickly silenced but left him continuing to tremble. Another long moment passed before he weakly reached into the river that now ran clean and splashed some more water on his ashen, sweat-drenched face. Roman briefly watched him before he sighed and approached Dean, getting a secure hold just above his elbows and pulling him to his feet since he didn't think he'd be able to support himself at the moment. He would have allowed him to sit and compose himself longer, but time was something they did not have.

"We have to keep moving," he reminded him. "More officers are on the way as we speak."

However, Dean seemed to not hear his words as he slowly turned back to him. His light eyes were empty aside from the moisture that now resided in them, which he refused to let turn to tears and fall. "That... that's three people I've killed..." he mumbled.

Roman nodded once. It wasn't a point he could argue. "We'll have to talk about that later, Dean," he said. "If we don't leave now, then we're as good as dead. And Seth is in no shape to fight anyone off if we get caught."

His last statement caused some life to return back to Dean's eyes, and he nodded before he turned and walked away from Roman back to where Seth was waiting for them against the tree. He crouched down next to the slightly younger man, a hint of a smile appearing at the corner of his lips.

"You all right?" he asked.

Seth gazed at him for a moment, hints of his concern lingering on his face, before he nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine," he answered quietly. "You?"

Dean briefly appeared hesitant before he nodded once himself. "I'm fine, too," he agreed, causing his friend to smile slightly.

Then, they both glanced up when Roman approached them. "All right, let's get moving," he told them. "I don't know how far away from the actual town we are, so I don't know how long it'll take, but more people are coming for us."

"Hold on," Dean muttered as he reached out and grabbed the two guns that were now in his possession from where he had set them on the ground. He then handed one to Seth.

"Dean, I don't want this..." he began, trying to hand it back.

However, Dean wouldn't accept it. "Just keep it for self-defense, Seth," he said. "Roman's got one, too. At least this way, we're all covered." He passed a hand through his hair, glancing up at their friend who had recently joined them before looking back at the two-toned Shield member. "Look, guys. Shoot if you have to, okay? But... if it comes down to it... let me take the fatal shots."

Roman took a step closer while Seth's brow furrowed, both regarding the other man with a critical eye. "Dean, you can't just expect us to let you take that upon yourself," the former replied. "That's crazy."

Dean just shrugged, though some hesitance remained in his gaze. "Not really. I mean, there's no reason for all of us to start killing people," he muttered. Then, a quiet chuckle escaped from him. "Besides, I've racked up enough bad karma by now that it doesn't really matter anymore."

Seth continued to look back at him for a long moment before his gaze faltered as he lowered it to the gun Dean had handed him, which was surprisingly heavy in his hand. It was then he realized that it would be as heavy as his friend's if he were to use it too much. A quiet sigh escaped from him before he nodded in agreement. "Okay, Dean," he murmured. "If it comes down to it again, that'll be up to you."

A brief moment passed before another small smile appeared on Dean's face, his muscles seeming to relax in relief. "Thanks, Seth."

Roman shook his head slightly. It was still a responsibility that he didn't want to befall his friend. Not by himself. Then, he quickly looked up when he thought he heard the sound of sirens in the distance. "We need to go."

Dean glanced up at him again, nodding when he heard the sound as well. He reached out and took Seth's arm, winding it around his neck. "Careful," he said quietly, knowing they'd have to be even more cautious of his injured ribs after the damage they had suffered pulling him out of the river.

Seth took a deep breath. "Let's just go," he replied. Though his tone was steady, he was sure his friends could hear the traces of hesitance in his low voice.

"All righty." Dean set his jaw as he slowly started to lift the slightly younger man to his feet. He paused, however, when a quiet pained whimper escaped from him as he closed his eyes tightly.

Roman stepped forward and took Seth's other arm, knowing that time was of the essence. He pulled him the rest of the way to his feet as carefully as he could, keeping him steady before he turned to Dean. "I've got him," he muttered, pulling their two-toned teammate a bit closer when he leaned against him for support. "We need to figure out where to go. The squad car can't be driven now because of the flat tire..."

Dean had started to make sure their bags of minimal food and water bottles were all gathered, but he paused and sighed when he realized that could have been their means of escape. But because of him, that was no longer an option. "Well, we just came from that bridge," he explained when he straightened up and pointed in its direction. "All it does is lead back to that church."

"Maybe we could stay there until we can figure out where to go?" Seth suggested once the pain in his abdomen was at least a bit more tolerable.

However, Dean adamantly shook his head. "No, that could be a place they'd expect us to go," he countered. "Plus, I don't know about you, but I still don't know if we can actually trust Peter."

"Well, in Seth's condition, I don't see much of a choice at the moment," Roman argued, causing the other man to raise a challenging eyebrow. "At least it would give us a place to regroup. Besides, we have no idea where we are, Dean."

Dean considered his words for a moment before shaking his head again. "I just... I don't know." He passed a hand over his face. "Something just tells me that if we go back there, we'll be walking into some sort of death trap. I don't want to risk our lives for no reason."

Roman opened his mouth to disagree before he turned away and clenched his jaw tightly. Bickering needlessly wasn't going to get them anywhere, especially since they already had a limited amount of time at their disposal. He instead reached into his pocket and pulled out the map Isabella had given him and unfolded it, his dark eyes gazing intently at the area they were in as he searched for some sort of sign of where they could go while trying to use her added writings to guide him.

Seth studied it curiously as well. "It looks like there's some kind of path that follows the river," he commented, pointing at an area next to the thin blue line that stretched across the tattered paper. "Maybe that will be our best bet for now. At least until we can take a better look at this and come up with a plan."

"Right." Roman sighed as he folded the map again and put it back in his pocket behind his phone. "You okay to walk?"

"As good as I'll ever be," Seth said with an attempt at a genuine smile.

Roman tried to return the look before he began to make his way toward the bridge, finding the dirt path that wound through the trees beside the river that led away from the direction of the church. He supported most of his friend's weight so that he wouldn't have to put much pressure on his own body, and they found a steady pace to walk at to hopefully avoid as much pain as possible. Though he knew that Seth would be affected no matter what was done, and they would have to get him medical attention as soon as possible.

But then, Roman slowed to a stop when he realized that their third companion wasn't following them. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing that Dean was still standing near the tree Seth had previously been leaning against, staring in the direction of the road as he listened to the sirens grow louder. "Dean!" he yelled. "Come on, let's go!"

However, Dean seemed not to hear him. He remained standing with his arms crossed, his gun on his belt and the little food and drink they had held tightly in his hands. His face was impassive, but his light eyes were conflicted.

Roman sighed as he glanced at Seth. "Can you stand here for a minute?" he wondered.

Seth nodded, glancing behind him before he set his hand against a tree. "Yeah, I'll be fine," he confirmed.

Seeing that he could support himself, Roman let go of the younger man before he jogged over to where Dean was standing. He came to a stop before he reached out and grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn around. "Did you not hear me, Ambrose?" he asked, slight frustration entering his tone. "We need to get the hell out of here before we're found!"

Dean glanced back at him with a nod. "Yeah, I'm coming," he answered quietly.

Roman met his gaze before for a long moment before he turned and made his way back over to where Seth was waiting for them. Dean's gaze faltered before he ran a hand through his hair as they started to make their way down the dirt path into the trees, once more turning back to where the two bodies of the officers were still lying before he slowly made his way after them.

**Author's Note**: Well, I have to admit this was a completely different side of Dean than I've ever written before. But now that they're back together, what's next for our favorite Hounds of Justice? Well, we'll have to keep going to find out! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!


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